Departure
by Misaki Kyuuki
Summary: He was gone. After 17 years, Woody and Andy had finally parted their ways. However, Woody will soon have to face how his best friend's departure had truly affected him. What could Buzz do to tear him away from misery? And is Andy really ready to move on?
1. Prologue: Stay

**_[=Notice: Please read=]_**

_If you read my story, please, leave a review. I worked really, really hard to write these pages. Weather you liked them or not, I would be extremely pleased to know your opinion. It'll only take a few minutes, and it will boost me to improve myself and to update as soon as I can._  
_Anonymous Reviews are enabled_.  
Thanks! =))

* * *

**Author's note:** I was inspired to write this story right after watching "Toy Story 3": I have to say, I feared it could ruin the Toy Story saga, as many sequels do. I'm happy I was wrong, because I truly loved this movie. It made me laugh, be totally absorbed into the plot, and most of all, it made me emotionally involved even more than the first movie, which I adore.

I truly appreciated how it focused on _Woody and Andy's relationship____,_ and that is why, in this story, I'll concentrate on it as well.

_The story is set right at the end of the third movie: I changed the very last part._

"_**Departure" will deal with Woody's introspection: about his life, about his bond with Andy and consequently about how his departure had truly affected him.**_** But not just that. **_**It will also deal with Buzz and his relationship with Woody and with Andy.**_

**Full Summary:** [Set at the end of Toy Story 3, beware of spoilers!] He was gone. For good. After more than 10 years, Woody and Andy had finally parted their ways: after all, that was the right choice for everyone. That's what he kept saying to himself. However, Woody will soon have to face how his best friend's departure had truly affected him, and he won't be the only one to notice that: but what could Buzz do to tear his friend away from misery?

Enjoy!

* * *

**Check out my** _**Toy Story Tribute (Woody&Andy)**_ at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=yCrK-7xCGrQ

**And my other _Toy Story Tribute (Trilogy) _**at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=cmCsEWZAWfQ

Or just **_look on Youtube for MisakiKyuuki_**

* * *

**.-.-.-. New POLL in my profile: which bond do you like best? ****.-.-.-.**  
**1)Woody&Andy  
2)Woody&Buzz  
3)Buzz&Andy**

**Vote now! =D**

* * *

**DEPARTURE**

**Prologue  
**_Stay_

"Now Woody, he's been my pal for as long as I can remember. He's brave, like a cowboy should be. And kind, and smart. But the thing that makes Woody special, is he'll never give up on you...ever. He'll be there for you, no matter what."

That was it. His best friend's last words. Andy's _goodbye._

He had heard Andy talking about him. He had watched Andy as he smiled at him. He had _felt_ Andy holding him again after years, with the same warmness he used to have.

And they had played. Together. Once again.

How could something so precious, so ecstatic, hurt so much at the same time?

He kept still, laying lifeless in Bonnie's arms, as he watched his owner, his friend, his _Andy_ leave inside his car. He watched him _maybe for the last time_ with a plastic look plastered on his vinyl face, that nonetheless held so many emotions.  
The car was slowly but surely drifting away from his sight, as the now young man was from his life.  
His companion, the one he cared about the most, his pal for over ten years, was going away. Maybe, for good. Without him. And he had deliberately chosen to part their ways and say goodbye. He felt something wrench and break inside him, even if all he was made of was just cottoned fluff.

"_Now Woody, he's been my pal for as long as I can remember."_

Don't.

"_He's brave, like a cowboy should be. And kind, and smart."_

Don't leave.

"_But the thing that makes Woody special is he'll never give up on you...ever."_

Don't leave me.

"_He'll be there for you, no matter what."_

A last spark of blue from behind the nearby bushes. And then, nothing.

If he had had a beating heart, he would have felt it collapse on itself.  
If he had had veins, all the colour would have been drawn from his face.  
If he had had the possibility to cry, he would have felt a warm and salty wetness devastating his cheeks.

Andy. _Was._ _**Gone!**_

"Come on, Bonnie. Let's get something to eat." She dropped them. She ran away from them.

And so did he.

Landing on his left boot, he immediately bounded onto his right one.  
He ran as fast as his stuffed legs enabled him to. He could not breathe, nor think. He just ran.

Ran. Ran. Ran.

Faster.

Ran. Ran. Ran.

He did not hear the cries of the other toys. He did not feel the pain from the prolonged strain. Nor did he care, anyway.  
And there it was. Andy's car, still not at full speed, accelerating and ready to take off completely.

Stop.

He arrested death in his tracks, there, in the middle of the road.  
He breathed in all the air he could, because he was panting and he desperately needed it. Then, he exhaled it all in one last, mourning yell.

"**I'LL MISS YOU ANDY!"**

He was driving. Away from his home, from his family, from his entire life, to start a whole new chapter. And yet, why was it so woeful to leave everything and everyone he cared about behind? He should have been happy, and he was. He had finally obtained the independence he wanted so much, he was not a kid anymore. He was turning into a young man, and that was the first step. But…

A cry.

A shrill, penetrating cry.

His foot pressed on the brake faster than he could even think to do so, his eyes wide open and his irises half their size.  
The car screeched harshly with the solid concrete, before stopping completely.  
His pupils were glued to the wing mirror, his heart skipping a beat and then leaping to a full-speed rhythm.

He had heard that voice. He _knew_ that voice. And he saw him. He saw Woody standing right there in the street, several yards away but still clearly visible.  
He felt a tight lump knot at his epiglottis, his mouth going awfully dry and his jaw dropping.

A moment that felt like eternity, barely lasted a handful of seconds.

His eyes, dry as well, blinked.

And he was gone.

His gaze started to wander frantically from left to right, lost, and his irises were now wide open to search for an answer that did not come.  
He unfastened his seatbelt with trembling hands, and jumped out of his car as fast as he could.

The road, completely empty.

He rubbed his eyes forcefully, and then reopened them.

Still, no one.

He felt something wet forming on his lower eyelids, but it wasn't due to the hard scrub they just went through. Then, he went back into his car, sinking down on his seat and closing the door. He finally swallowed the lump in his throat, his head slumped downwards.

"Gee…" he mused, a stern tone in his voice. "How stupid am I?"  
He forced himself to prevent the wetness in his eyes to fall down his cheeks, and soon it was gone.  
The engine was started again, and soon enough, he was resuming his travel, moving far and far away from that spot with each passing second. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. It was not real. It was his imagination. Just that. Just an illusion…  
And yet, he could not help that nagging voice inside of him, telling him it _was_ real, screaming that he had indeed seen Woody, his _toy_ Woody standing and yelling his name. And that was why he kept glancing ever so often at the rear mirror, with a light spark of hope glowing in the deep core of his soul; a hope he regretted and mocked every time he saw the road and just the road left behind.

The truth was, Andy Davis truly and dearly missed his toys. Because they had been his best friends for his entire childhood. Because he could always rely on them. Because he just needed their presence to travel with his mind and let his imagination take them in swashbuckling adventures.  
Because they were a part of his life, now gone.  
He missed having them around.

The truth was, Andy Davis truly and dearly missed his _Woody_. Because he had constantly been by his side, no matter what. Because he was not an ordinary toy and, as weird as it was, he seemed to somehow look after him, being always there when needed.  
Because he almost worshipped him as an hero, his hero. Because he loved him, more than he could ever love any of his other toys. Because it was him, and no more explanations were needed.  
He missed _him_.

He shook his head forcefully, as trying to free it from those _silly_ thoughts. He was a grown-up boy now. He had no time for toys. Not even for Woody.

His downwards mouth, however, told otherwise.

* * *

He was panting. Frantically.

He had _seen_ him.

Woody stood; but not like he did just a few moments ago: his arms were not spread, nor were his legs. His limbs were rigid and straight at the sides of his body, the fists painfully clenched as ever before; eyes wide open and mouth set in a thin line: the perfect expression of pure shock.

What had he _done_?

He tried to steady his breathing. He failed.

"Woody!"

Buzz was the first one to reach him, stopping just a few inches away from one of the two main gate pickets the cowboy was hiding behind.

"What the…why did you do that? You know somebody could've seen you!" He was bewildered, to say the least.

Woody opened his mouth as to speak, but no sound came out, so he closed it. His gaze stopped staring emptily in front of him, as he slowly set it downcast alongside with his head, before shutting his eyelids tightly, the firm line on his mouth slightly curving into a grimace.

"I…don't know" he barely whispered with an ever so low, dejected tone.

The space ranger looked at him. His shoulders were now weakly slumped down, as well as his knees, while the tight grip his hands were balled into was loosening up.

Resignation, desolation, helplessnesses: these were emotions he rarely read on the cowboy's face. He had always been the leader, the optimist, the one that never surrendered and that always, _always_ motivated and helped everyone. It was just like him.  
That is why it was so hard, and so painful, seeing said emotions depicted in his face and in his physical attitude. And it was even harder to come to terms with the knowledge he could do absolutely nothing to ease the troubled mind of his best friend. Nobody could. Well, nobody but the person that had caused his grief in the first place, anyway.  
But he was very well conscious that Andy would never come back for a toy, even if it was Woody. It had been a choice of his, after all: _he_ had willfully jumped from the "college" box into theirs.  
Even though, after his outcry, Andy could have as well come back. At least, he hoped he would.

"Woody…" he put an hand on his right shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "I'm sorry. I really am. I know how much this situation affects you."

He cracked his eyes open just a bit, forming a thin line that barely allowed him to see anything at all. Then, all of a sudden, he straightened up once again, and started to move towards Bonnie's house. Their new house.

"We should go back. Bonnie might return and notice we're not there" he said, emptily, his voice drawn of every emotion.

"Woody…" Buzz raised his right arm as to stop him, his voice, as well as his upwards eyebrows, showing an hint of surprise at his sudden change of behaviour.

* * *

I really wanted this to be ready this week, so I stayed up all the night till 7.30 AM to finish the prologue XD

So, what do you think? _Reviews are gladly accepted_! =D

P.S.: I'm already working on the first chapter!


	2. Chapter 1: Questions

_**[=Notice: Please read=]**_

_If you read my story, please, leave a review. I worked really, really hard to write these pages. Weather you liked them or not, I would be extremely pleased to know your opinion. It'll only take a few minutes, and it will boost me to improve myself and to update as soon as I can._  
_Anonymous Reviews are enabled_.  
Thanks! =))

* * *

**.-.-.-. New POLL in my profile: which bond do you like best? ****.-.-.-.**  
**1)Woody&Andy  
2)Woody&Buzz  
3)Buzz&Andy**

**Vote now! =D**

* * *

**Author's note**: And heeeeeeeeeere I aaaaaaaammmmmmmm! Finally! I am _so _very happy to update! I'm _exhausted _too: I worked day and night in the past _weeks_ to get this chapter ready. I'm soring! T_T But here we go guys! Chapt…wait, didn't I tell you there was a _surprise_ waiting for you with this update? Of course I didn't forget. I know it's not perfect (seriously, it's not XD) but I put my heart in it! =) And I want to dedicate it to all my beloved readers. You have no idea how much I truly appreciate your reviews and support.

And…here it goes! _**SURPRISE!**_

_**Toy Story Tribute (Woody&Andy)**_ at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=yCrK-7xCGrQ

**Other _Toy Story Tribute (Trilogy) _**at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=cmCsEWZAWfQ

Or just **_look on Youtube for MisakiKyuuki_**

And now, enjoy the chapter ;)

* * *

**On the previous chapter  
**_He kept still, laying lifeless in Bonnie's arms, as he watched his owner, his friend, his Andy leave inside of his car. He watched him maybe for the last time with a plastic look plastered on his vinyl face, that nonetheless held so many emotions._  
Andy. _Was.__Gone!**  
**He arrested death in his tracks, there, in the middle of the road._  
_He breathed in all the air he could. Then, he exhaled it all in one last, mourning yell. "I'LL MISS YOU ANDY!"_  
_He knew that voice. And he saw him. He saw Woody standing right there in the street, several yards away but still clearly visible. He blinked, and he was gone. He shook his head forcefully, as trying to free it from those silly thoughts. He was a grown-up boy now. He had no time for toys. Not even for Woody. His downwards mouth, however, told otherwise.__  
"Woody…" he put an hand on his right shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "I'm sorry. I really am. I know how much this situation affects you."  
He straightened up once again, and started to move towards Bonnie's house. Their new house._

* * *

**DEPARTURE**

**Chapter 1  
**_Questions_

He had wondered why, several times by now.

Why had he jumped out of that box, the _college_ box?  
Did he fear that Andy would have let him laying limp on a shelf all day long, getting more and more covered with dust, just like they all did for the past years?  
Did he think he could have been happier with Bonnie more than he could ever be with his now previous owner?  
Did he value his friendship with the other toys more than the one linking him with Andy?

No, no and no. That was not possible. At all.

Woody was prepared to be placed in the attic. He was ready and willing to be _discarded_.  
He would've gone anywhere Andy would have wanted him to: no matter how long, no matter why. Because that was what he felt as his task. That was the reason he lived for. He'd always have been there for Andy, regardless of the consequences.  
Moreover, he could never, _ever_ have thought he could have been happier with Bonnie. There was not a chance. Not a single one.  
She welcomed them all in her house, in her heart, the moment she saw them. She took care of them, she loved them. She gave them a new life, making them happier than they had been in years. Woody fondly cared about the little girl, he had never doubted that.  
But.  
He knew that was not enough. He knew _she_ was not enough.  
Because even if she was a toddler, so far away from growing up, so far away from growing out of _them_; even if she filled every single minute of their days, completing their existences with each heartwarming smile, with every loving caress; even if she stood for everything Andy was not anymore, everything Andy _could never be_ anymore…she could not take his place.  
She was not him.

And, as much as Woody truly and thoroughly cared about everyone of his friends, Buzz knew his friendship, his bond with Andy was something so special and unique, nobody could ever replace: he was also well aware of the fact that Woody and Andy meant to each other more than he would ever have. They valued their friendship above everything, and everyone.  
He had just to settle himself to be the second-best, to the both of them. And even if sometimes the thought was painful to bear, he had long ago learned to be content with what he just had. It was quite a lot, after all. Not exactly as much as he wanted, but …enough.  
After all, he would never have renounced to the friendship he shared with the cowboy, and with the boy as well: it was important, it was pure, and it was solid.  
Besides, hadn't he done the same thing? The bond he had with Woody was the strongest he had ever had. He cared about him more than anyone else: more than his other friends, more than Andy himself. He had been his first, true friend.  
Even if he would hardly admit it, he almost regarded Woody as his mentor. Well, who wouldn't anyway?  
He was born a leader. He seemed always to know what to do, anytime, anywhere. Everyone relied on him.  
Well, at least they used to…

"She's back, she's baaaaaack!"

Rex's excited voice suddenly broke into his flow of thoughts.

"Rex, calm down!" giggled Trixie, amused at his antics.

"What? She's back already?" asked Jessie.

"Seems like he's right, she _is_ coming back. Look, she's in her mom's arms." Hamm stated from his spot by the windowsill.

"It's not that unlikely" observed Dolly, looking down at the walkway as she approached him. "She's just fifteen minutes early".

"Places, everyone! They are coming!" urged Chuckles.

"Kids, come on already! Get out of your daddy's back and come here!" called out Mrs Potato, while Buttercup made his way towards the bed.

"Wait a minute" spoke Mr. Pricklepants "…where's Woody?"

"Right!" said Jessie from the little brown table she was now laying on. "Where is he? I haven't seen him since Bonnie left this morning!"

"No time for that, they're climbing the stairs!" shouted Mr. Potato before resuming his inanimate position. She couldn't help but to follow suit, as everybody else did.

The door was opened swiftly as Mrs. Anderson entered the room with her child still in her arms.

"Here we go, honey. So, how do you feel?"

"Good!" she said happily.

"Not tired anymore?" she asked lovingly.

"Nope!" she jumped out of her mother's arms. In that moment, her stomach emitted a soft rumble.

"Looks like someone is hungry, huh?"

The baby smiled shyly in response.

"Then why don't you play with your toys while I go make you a snack? Would you like that?"

"Yayyy!" she jumped contently, then she headed towards her bed to fetch some toys.

"Have fun dear, I'll call you when it's ready."

"Ok mom! Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Wait, what is it?" she turned towards her left. "Bullseye is trying to say something!" she ran towards the little horse.  
"Speak louder!" she said as she drew its muzzle close to her ear. "What? Dr. Porkchop and Dolly took away Mr. Potato and his kids? Oh no! We have to save them!" "Hurry, I saw them going to the astroship! They wanna leave for another planet!" "But we cannot do it on our own, Jessie! We need help!" "Let's call Buzz Liteyear, he'll help us!" _Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!_ "No worries, we'll get them in no time! Buttercup, help me reach the ship! Our friends wait for us!"

"Ok, everyone's ready to leave!" she shouted as she assured every toy had its place in the handcrafted cardboard ship. But the more she regarded it, the more she realized something was missing. At least…_someone_ was.

"Where's my cowboy?" she asked confused.

* * *

Chicago.

Also known as the Windy City, with its over 2.8 million residents was considered one of the most populous cities in the USA._  
No wonder_, he thought, staring emptily out of the window of his room, his figure slumped forwards on his desk and his cheek held idly by his right palm.  
Its prominent and majestic skyscrapers, the numerous museums rich of history and the sparkling lights of the crowded streets made it a very lively, busy city.  
So very different from the small, ordinary town he was raised in. It actually marvelled him how two realities so far away from each other could be just a couple of hours apart.  
He still had a lot to know about Chicago, but the one thing he certainly had grown to understand about said city, was that winters were madly, unmercifully…cold. And from what he had been told, the worst had yet to come: that meant storms, blizzards and, of course, an even lower temperature.  
Luckily for him, he wouldn't have had to bear such an hostile climate for long, since everything his mind was set to, right now, were his studies.

Well, not exactly _everything_.

He would have never admitted it openly, but he missed his home. Dearly.  
Every time the indifferent buzz of his nightstand alarm clock went off, he could not help but think back at when he used to wake up with his mom's shrill shouts, urging him not to be late for school.  
The soft flavour of homemade goodies that he could enjoy in his tranquil, cosy kitchen, was replaced instead by the noisy meals he consumed hastily in the ground floor cafeteria.  
And when, during the summer or the early days of the winter, he sat all by himself under the shadow of a college big oak tree's foliage, quietly reading one of his thick volumes, he almost missed Molly's exuberant, nosy prying.

He caught himself smiling at the thought, noticing his blurred reflex on the window pane, its greyish hues perfectly matching the dark sky flocked with ominous, swelling clouds.  
He honestly felt a bit childish whenever he mused over the life he had left behind, wondering what his mom or his sister would be doing in that moment, wanting to call them but restraining himself from doing so.  
He could not really be blamed, anyway. They were the only family he had ever known, since he didn't have many relatives (not many that he could remember, though), nor other siblings, nor…

_...a father._

He instantly went rigid, unconsciously balling his left fist and biting into his lower lip.  
Preventing his mind to further scrutinize the matter at hand, he slumped heavily backwards in his ergonomic blue chair, an apparently indispensable piece of furniture his mom had pressed him to accept as a gift no later than a week after he got there.  
He scrubbed wearily his eyelids, something he tended to do whenever he was tired or distressed_.  
Looks like it's raining again_, he pondered as he observed the first, pin-like drops of rain colliding against the window.  
He sat there for a few more minutes drenched in the half-light, before he finally decided to get up, even if he had no idea what to do. Heading towards his bed, he glanced at the flashing red numbers of his alarm clock, that read **17:58**. He didn't really feel like eating yet, but what else could he have done at that hour?  
Maybe he could have studied some more. He spent most of his spare time in that activity, anyway. But as soon as he eyed a pile of rusty, brick-like tomes, that idea was definitely turned down. He was just done with that for the day.  
He could've gone out with his skate, if not for the bad weather. Or he could've played his guitar: he had disregarded it for months by now, it could have been a good excuse to resume his practice. But he had left it home the day he took off for college, and he never minded to get it back. Moreover, much to his regret, his laptop was under repair.  
So: no eating, no studying, no skate, no guitar, no computer. That led only to one option. He carelessly threw himself onto his bed, fumbling for his I-pod on the top of his nightstand, crankily sitting up to take a better look after he found none. He opened its only drawer, not really feeling like turning any light on, and luckily for him, there it was. In the process of lifting it up, his pinkie skimmed over a laminated surface, and he immediately recognized what it was. He fished it out, nonetheless.  
It was an old, creased picture that he used to have pinned to his notice board, depicting an eight-year-old version of himself surrounded by some of the many toys he used to have. He smiled affectionately at the sight. Bullseye, Jessie, the Potato Heads, Hamm (or Evil Dr. Porkchop, as he liked to call him), Slinky, Rex, the Pizza Planet's aliens, the soldiers (even if he didn't really know what had become of them), all scattered around him, knelt down alongside his favourite Buzz Lightyear covers. And there it was. The proud, devoted spaceman held in his left hand, ready to save the galaxy from evil emperor Zurg or from whatever threat should have come in the way. His gaze shifted purposely upwards, quickly, meeting his own blue eyes. His eyebrows were raised, and he was smiling, genuinely.  
He looked happy.  
The sides of his mouth slowly started to curve downwards, as he forced his stare to remain focused on the upper part of the picture. He couldn't bring himself to look at…

_"I'LL MISS YOU ANDY!"_

He clenched his grip at the side of the photo, wrinkling it even more than it already was.

Woody.

He had never stopped thinking about that day, and that was one of the main reasons he was so committed to his studies. He had to keep his mind busy. The whole scene reeled off vividly again and again in his head, in slow motion, like a movie he couldn't help but relive.  
He had pondered every possible explanation, he had tried his uttermost best not to think about it. But he just couldn't let it go.  
His words echoed incessantly in his ears, like a chant you can't help but play in your head .  
His voice, so clearly audible. _His_ unmistakable voice.  
His tiny figure, standing out in the middle of the deserted road.  
His face, his painfully grieving-_STOP IT. __Now__._

That was just _crazy_.

_He's a goddamned __toy__, you get it? A freaking __toy__ for goodness' sake!_

No matter how much his mind told him that he was not insane, that there was no way on earth he could have even possibly imagined it. He would have tried everything to get rid of that memory._  
Illusion_ he corrected instantly.

He settled the picture back into his place, and he put his eardrums on. In that moment, someone broke into his room.

"Hiya dude!" he cheered, turning the lights on.

"Hi Steve."

Steve was his roommate. A plump, hard core metalhead on the loose.  
He had been the first person he had met there, and despite their differences, they got along pretty well so far. As a matter of fact, he was his only, true friend in the entire campus. Of course he knew other college students, but they were nothing more than acquaintances he sometimes hung out with. Although he joined some of the university's activities, the soccer team being an example, he was known as nothing more than a friendly guy, quite clever and successful in sports.  
Unlike him, Steve was more the kind of person that you would easily find half-clothed in a remote corner of the city after a night of getting wasted.

A very eccentric boy indeed.

"Man, have you been here all day?"

"Huh…guess so."

"You should really get outta here, y'know? You look like a bookworm."

"Thanks. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you had to stalk…what's her name again? July?"

"Ha-ha. Not funny. I'm not stalking her, given that she's still my girlfriend. She's just a lil' mad cause she saw me with Cindy, but no big deal, I'm gonna make up for it sooner or later."

"Whatever."

"Anyway, I just needed some fresh clothes, big party tonite!"

"As usual" he watched him as he smelled some of his habitual studded black clothes he had left on the ground, before he put them on. "You're disgusting, you know?"

"Aw come on. Hey, why don't you come along? I met these hot chicks a couple of hours ago, and they'll be totally there. Floor 4, room 506"

"I'll give it a thought."

"Sure you will" he smiled ironically. "See ya tomorrow dude."

"Later, man."

"Oh and, anyway" he said as he stopped on the threshold. "I wasn't kidding before. You should get outta here. Y'know, get some fresh air or whatever."

He watched him as he closed the door. Maybe he was right…some fresh air was not such a bad idea, after all.

* * *

She looked for him everywhere, in her little room. But after a good ten minutes spent vainly in that activity, she could come up with only one conclusion: he was not there.  
Sadly lowering her big eyes to the wooden tiles underneath her, she unconsciously clenched her hold on the spaceman more than necessary. "Guess Dolly hid him really good this time" she said dejectedly. "Let's go Buzz, we can save the others later" she muttered, throwing him on her mattress. But, as she did so, one of his plastic wings got stuck into one of her overalls' buttons, causing it to fall and roll behind the headboard.  
"Oh no!" she hurried after it, ducking nearby her bed and peering with one eye in the narrow space that separated it from the wall. She stuck her little hand there, trying to reach it and failing. But she did find something indeed.  
She strained her arm one more bit to get a steadier grip onto it, then she pulled hard. "Woody!" she squeaked happily. "You're back, you're back! I knew it!" she giggled hugging him tightly, her eyes lighting up once again.  
"Huh?" she eyed curiously at what seemed like a dark blot on his partly bent leg. She turned his right boot upwards in order to get a close look at it. It was apparently a bunch of scattered lines, but her mom had told her some time ago that those were letters, forming a name, exactly like the ones she had recently learned to write her own.

"Andy" she said, remembering his name.

"_Why did he do dat, mom?"_

"_Well, I suppose it's because he wanted everybody to know that those were his toys, hon."_

"_And why is that?"_

"_Uh..." she scratched her head, not exactly sure how to respond. "Maybe he felt it as a way to have them close...so nobody could take them away, knowing they already belonged to someone."_

"_Hmm..." she lowered her eyes, scrunching up her mouth thoughtfully. After what seemed like an accurate analysis, she came up with her response._

_ "Alrighty!" she exclaimed. Her mother smiled._

"_Mom?"_

"_Yes, Bonnie?"_

"_Can you teach me how to write my name, so I can do like Andy?"_

"_Of course, sweetheart."_

It took her weeks and a lot of hard practicing to actually learn the difficult task. But she successfully achieved her goal: now spelling the name "Bonnie" without mistakes was as easy as pie for her.  
Since that day, it didn't take long before she could write it down proudly on her beloved toys.  
But for a reason she could quite not grasp, she never managed to tag that left boot she was eyeing right now. Her sight wandered casually to her surroundings, until it stopped its trail on one particular object: a black marker, just a few feet away from her.  
She could not pass up such a great opportunity.  
Smiling contently, she got on her feet and reached out to it, popping out its cap. Sitting down once again, she hoisted the cowboy doll up taking a steady hold of the clear boot: she had to be careful not to make the slightest mistake. She wanted to do it properly, like her mom had thought her.

_No! Not __again__!_

He was panicking. He was _losing it_.  
All he could think of was that he just _had_ to do something. Quickly.  
He watched as the dreaded marker was dangerously approaching his boot.  
No matter how irrational it was. No matter how egoistic it could seem. No matter how mean he might have appeared.  
But he just could not allow that.

_There's a snake in my boot!_

"What?" the kid, to his great relief, immediately let go of her drawing pen. She turned him upside down: his back string was perfectly in place. But she seemed not to make a big deal out of it, since she quickly resumed her job.

She lifted the marker from the ground.  
She placed it back in her right hand.  
She turned him over once again, letting him dangle lifelessly in space.

_Dammit!_

3 inches away.

_Think, Woody, think!_

2 inches away.

_I don't want to!_

One inch away.

_NO!_

Thump.

She let go of him instantly, her big brown orbs watering up.

Did he _really_ just do that?

"Mph…mph…mmm…moooooo…moooooommyyyy!" she cried out, getting on her feet and scurrying away as fast as she could.

Silence.

* * *

Ok, first of all: a little explanation about the video. I think that the song "Stay" describes perfectly how Woody was utterly mourning to let go of Andy. That song has inspired me a lot for this story, and that's why I wanted you to watch my tribute.

Now, a little something about the current chapter: I'm sorry if that's too long, but after all this time, you deserved this much! =) I had originally planned to make it longer, actually, but I didn't want to overload you XD And besides, turns out it's better this way for how I want the story to unfold. I wanted to go on describing how Woody acted and felt (and trust me, I'm just getting started with that), but my main purpose was to show Buzz's point of view about all this, and I think I reached my goal.

To be honest, I had quite an hard time with Andy's college life, even if now I'm pretty satisfied with what I wrote. Oh, and if you are from Chicago or you like metal music, I meant no offense to anyone! You have no idea of how hard it is to describe a city you've never been in. And I wanted Steve to be a nice guy, but one of a kind, so I hope you like him as much as I had fun making up his character!

What a cliffy huh? I know I'm evil! Mwahahahah XD

So, _what do you think Woody did_? I'm curious to know! Did you like this chapter? Or not?

_**Leave a **__**review**__ and I'll be a very, very happy and __productive__ author!_

And now..

**REVIEWS ****CORNER**! ^O^

**shego1142****:** Honestly, I wanted to reply to you the moment I saw your review. It's the first one, and you made me so happy! I'm glad that I got you emotional (this means I achieved my purpose on taking up the movie's core), even if I'm sad you cried . Seriously, I'm happy you liked my story! I can't answer your question about it being Woody/Andy or Woody/Buzz, as much as I want to, cause that way I will unveil way too much. But trust me, there's so much on the Woody/Andy/Buzz bond on the way! ;)

**KevinJonasislove** Thank you! You have no idea how pleased I am thatyou told me I did a good job showing the character's emotions, cause that was my main aim in the first place. Pure emotions. I honestly hate going out of character, so, if I should ever do that, tell me! ;) I hope you liked this chapter!

**Blackwolf** Aww, a fan of friendship stories too! Yay! ^O^ This chapter doesn't answer your question about how Buzz's gonna help Woody, I know, but I hope you liked this bit of his thoughts. As I said, there's a lot in the way for the three of them, so you'll find it out! ;D

**The Black Knight** Aww Neechan! What would I do without you? Your english seems quite good…who in the world helped you to write that comment? D= (6) Thank you, for everything! 3

**Adeadlykiss** I know it's not "that" soon, but I hope you liked this chapter! ;D

**Alana-kittychan** Isn't he? ='( It actually made me sad writing the prologue, I was too emotionally involved I guess XD Poor Woody! -

**J.j** Just did my dear, thanks XD

**Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare**Love that you loved it!

_**What do you think of the story? Of the chapter? Of the video? **__**Read and review**_! Love you guys =D


	3. Chapter 2: Changes

**Author's Note: **Yayyyyyy Chapter 2 is online! I'm happy it didn't take too long to write ^.^ Last night I watched the Academy Awards...darn it, I was so disappointed Toy Story 3 didn't win for Best Picture. It honestly deserved it but, being an animated movie, it got ignored. Of course. I mean, I'm happy for The King's Speech, it was a very good movie (way better than the others, in my opinion), but it didn't make me so involved and emotional like Toy Story. Oh well, let's just congratulate on Randy Newman and Lee Unkirch for their Oscars! =)

Anyway, if I have to be honest, I'm a bit sad...I would_ **love** some more **reviews**_!  
It would be a lot easier to go on if you'd tell me honestly what you think about what I'm writing, weather you liked it or not. Pretty pleeeeeeeeeeeeease? =(

* * *

**.-.-.-. New POLL in my profile: which bond do you like best? ****.-.-.-.**  
**1)Woody&Andy  
2)Woody&Buzz  
3)Buzz&Andy**

**Vote now! =D**

* * *

**Check out my** _**Toy Story Tribute (Woody&Andy)**_ at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=yCrK-7xCGrQ

**And my other _Toy Story Tribute (Trilogy) _**at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=cmCsEWZAWfQ

Or just **_look on Youtube for MisakiKyuuki_**

**

* * *

On the previous chapters  
**_Andy. Was. Gone!  
He breathed in all the air he could, because he was panting and he desperately needed it. Then, he exhaled it all in one last, mourning yell. "I'LL MISS YOU ANDY!"_  
_He knew that voice. And he saw him. He saw Woody standing right there in the street, several yards away but still clearly visible. He blinked, and he was gone._

_He had wondered why, several times by now. Why had Woody jumped out of that box, the college box?  
_"_Can you teach me how to write my name, so I can do like Andy?" She hoisted the cowboy doll up taking a steady hold of the clear boot. All he could think of was that he just had to do something. __He watched as the dreaded marker was dangerously approaching his boot. NO!  
She let go of him instantly, her big brown orbs watering up.  
He had never stopped thinking about that day, and that was one of the main reasons he was so committed to his studies. He had to keep his mind busy. The whole scene reeled off vividly again and again in his head._  
_"You should get outta here Andy. Y'know, get some fresh air or whatever."_

* * *

**DEPARTURE**

**Chapter 2  
**_Changes_

He raised himself up into a sitting position. What he had just done was way beyond inconceivable. He fastened his stare on the white door in front of him, a door that Bonnie had burst open in tears just moments ago.  
He could not believe his own actions, but there it was: no more than half a dozen inches away laid his cowboy hat. The same hat he had hurled against her head, in a desperate attempt to break his leg free from her hand. From a destiny he just could not bring himself to accept.  
Yes, it was just a plastic hat, and she probably hadn't even noticed him throwing it, focused as she was on her boot-marking task. And yes, she had probably run out of fright for the sudden bump, rather than out of real pain. But that was beyond the point.

"What in the world...?" it was Jessie's bewildered, angry voice to speak first.

"Are you completely out of your mind, Woody?" rebuked Mr. Potato.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Trixie chimed in.

He didn't even turn to face them. He just kept there, unmoving.

"At least you could bother to give us some sort of explenation, don't you think?" said Dolly in a quite irritated tone.

He was far from reacting.

"Damn it, Woody!" shouted Buzz. He approached him from the front, reaching for his shoulders and shaking him forcefully_._ "_Answer _me!"_  
_

He hardly recognized him in such a state: his stare was eerily void, his lips slightly parted together in shock.  
He was not himself anymore: Woody was gone. He had left the very moment Andy did. Where he was, he could not tell. The only thing he had left of himself, was that hollow shell in front of him.

He seemed to have some sort of reaction. "I..."

_How could I?  
_

"Woody. _Please_". He stared straight into his now lost, helpless eyes. He was _begging _him for an answer.

_How could I?  
_

"I..."

_I can't take it!_

"I need to leave!"

He leapt to his feet_, _unbalancing the space ranger in front of him and making him collide backwards on his rear end.

He reached the small brown table with two quick jumps, then the bed, then the windowsill. And he was out.

* * *

_[The previous day]  
_

"Here you go, honey" said caringly Mrs. Anderson as she tucked her daughter in her bed, leaving a soft goodnight kiss on her forehead. "Sleep tight!"

"Nighty mom!" She yawned. "G'nite everyone!" she said dazed to her toys, resting near her small figure, while her sight was gradually blurring.

He could feel her quiet breath huffing against his neck, her button nose slightly brushing against his cheek, while Slink's leg was softly tugging on his left. Everyone was soundly asleep.  
Fleecy, warm covers kept him sheltered from the cold autumn air raging outside. Watching the window pane quivering soundly under the pressure of the numerous gusts of wind, he felt some sort of...protection.  
He was used to sleeping in the cold darkness of the wagon-shaped toybox for years by now, and he could hardly remember the comfort of a real bed. The warmness he sensed from having someone who hugged him tightly, with utter, unconditionated love.  
Those innumerable, heartwarming nights he had spent regarding an angelic, carefree face...

He lowered his stare, gritting his teeth.

Everything looked so familiar, and yet, so very different.  
Bonnie's bed was larger, but her room smaller. She had less toys than the four-year-old Andy had, and most of them were old ones, found ones.  
He had instead been the only toy of Andy's who had already been used. And he had been his first one.  
He found himself wondering how her room would've changed during the years. She would have soon had a laptop, an iPod, a pouch. All her drawings would have been replaced by posters and photos. Her picture books would have soon made room for her school books...and he knew, all that would've come too soon.

_You saved the day again, Woody!_

Too soon...

_How long will it last, Woody?_ The Prospector's voice echoed in his mind. He had never forgotten those words.  
He wouldn't have missed Andy growing up for the world, he had retorted. He strongly believed in what he had said back than, and so he did now. He knew he had taken the right decision, because those years he had spent with him, had been the happiest of his life. Every single moment.  
But every birthday, every year passing by...they were a constant reminder of an incontrovertible truth: Andy _was_ growing up. And he perfectly knew what that meant. He had already _experienced_ what that meant.  
He just couldn't bring himself to think about it, always reiterating to himself it was just too soon to have such reflections.  
And sooner than he could realize, the moment had come: the first day he had decided to make him rest in the toybox instead of his bed. The first day he had chosen to go out with his friends instead of playing with them.  
The day he left.

Too soon...

_"Now Woody, he's been my pal for as long as I can remember._"

_Do you think Andy's taking you to college, or on his honeymoon?_

_"He's brave, like a cowboy should be. And kind, and smart._"

_Andy's growing up._

_"But the thing that makes Woody special is he'll never give up on you..."_

_And there's nothing you can do about it._

_"So long, partner._"

_"...ever."_

He jolted up.

Buzz watched him as he made his way to the headbord, calibrating every single step to make sure not to wake everyone, reaching the windowsill and climbing on the gutter towards the roof. He had noticed he hadn't fallen asleep that night.  
He never fell asleep.

He watched him silently, from afar, wondering what he could do to help but finding no answer.  
Should he have followed him? And if he did, what could he have done or said?  
He watched as his pain increased every day: he was suffering. Silently. Constantly.  
And the worst part was he behaved and acted normally, like everything was alright, refusing to let any of his true feelings escape and pretending like a real master: he had managed to fool everyone, even those who were supposed to know him best, such as Slinky and Jessie. Indeed, whenever he voiced those thoughts, they would always reply they hadn't really noticed any rilevant change, and if there was, it was probably due to the new setting they were in, and that he just needed time to settle.  
But as the days went by, nothing had changed. Instead, it got ever worse.  
During the first few weeks they had spent in their new house, he sometimes happened to catch Woody staring out of the window all by himself, probably thinking no one was watching.  
Yes, he played. He smiled. He laughed. He did everything he was _supposed _to do.  
But his smiles became progressively restrained, rigid. His interest less keen. His laughs softer. Almost...planned.  
Those changes were so subtle and undetectable, he had wondered more than one time if he wasn't just imagining it all.  
But when he started to sneak out, spending most of his nights perched up on the roof, something he had _never_ done before, he knew he had been right from the beginning.  
He _was_ changing, gradually, scaringly.  
Relentlessly.  
He got up as well: he wanted to follow him. He didn't know what he could have possibly done or said. But he just couldn't let him by himself.  
He _had_ to reach him. To be there for him.

He sat down, quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest and embracing them. His stare was lost in the infinity of the clear, starred star, while the icy-cold breeze grazed his face, gently swaying his hat.  
Now that the weather was starting to calm down, it was a nice feeling after all, and that was why he got up there there every time he could menage to. He felt quiet, relaxed. Almost in peace.  
Isolated from everyone, he just sat there most of the night, clearing his mind from any unwanted thought.  
Alone with his loneliness.

"Woody."

He heard a voice from behind. He turned his trunk partly around to face him, not abandoning his position.

"Oh, hi Buzz. Didn't hear you coming, sorry" he said quietly. "What are you doing up at this hour?" he continued.

"I..." he paused. "I guess I can't sleep." It wasn't a lie, after all. "What about you?"

"Me either" he smiled.

He was openly pretending, he could tell. He wanted to make it seem like everything was all right, when it, obiouvsly, wasn't.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Of course not!" he said kindly, patting the space on his right. It took him barely a few seconds to respond, but still, he hadn't answered instantly.

"Ok then" he took place biside him. "So...what are you doing up here?"

"Huh, not much I guess. Just staring at the sky" he said, turning again towards the blue infinity in front of him.

"Is that all?"

He faced him again, looking surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Is everything alright, Woody? Answer me honestly."

For the briefest of the moments, his quizzical expression seemed almost to falter. Almost. But everything went by so quickly, he wasn't actually sure if he had just imagined it.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"You tell me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

That was it. He was starting to have enough of that game.

"Oh. You _don't_?" he questioned inquisively, stressing his voice.

"No, I _don't_" he retorted sternly. "What are you driving at?"

"You've been acting strangely, lately" he stated, struggling to keep his composure.

He knotted his eyebrows. "Wha-"

"Don't try to tell otherwise."

He opened his eyes wide, bewildered. "Maybe you should get some sleep, Buzz. Seems like you need it."

"Will you just _stop_ playing dumb, Woody!" he bolted up. "I'm not an idiot!" he yelled.

"What? _What? _Are you just out of your right mind? I behave like I always do! There's nothing wrong with me or the way I act!" he screamed, getting up as well and waving his arms around as to make a point.

"_Exactly_, Woody. The way you _act_. Did you seriously think I hadn't noticed?"

He was cornered. He knew he was right. That was why he had every interest in cutting that argument instantly.

"That is just nonesense" he said defensively. "And to be honest, this conversation is starting to get at me. I really do think you should get back to sleep."

"Why won't you talk to me? You're acting like a doll, Woody! Like an empty, soulless doll! You fake every goddamned smile, you think about every single word before you speak it! What are you trying to hide? You can't fool me, you've _never _been like that! This whole...whole..._thing_ started the very moment you had crossed the threshold of this home! The moment you had _chosen_ to do that! You have never been like this with..."  
And he did. He pronunciated the name he knew couldn't be uttered.

He stopped hearing that instant, as everything went numb.

"Leave me alone."

"Woody, pl-"

"_Leave"_ he demanded with a grave, baritone whisper.

He obliged, and slowly, he made his way back inside the house, knowing he wouldn't have followed him. Knowing he would've kept haunting himself with just one thought.

Andy.

* * *

"Damn rain" he complained to himself, fumbling to get his "Damn umbrella!" unfastened. "Will you just open you idiotic piece of iron?"

He had decided to act on Steve's tip, given that the rain had seemed to finally stop, and he went out for a light meal at an hash house not too far from his dormitory. It was small, cosy, and, most of all, cheap. He felt at ease there, and tasting a homemade dish seemed certainly a much better idea than having to deal with the cafeteria's preecooked meals.  
Luckily for him, he had taken his umbrella with him, just out of prevention.  
Unluckily for him, his cautiousness turned out to be useless.  
It was _pouring_. And he was soaking wet.

"Damn city!" he kept railing distressed, approaching a traffic light.

Still struggling with his umbrella, he saw the WALK signal turning on out of the corner of his eye, and he started to proceed towards the opposite side of the road.

Now, everyone had always known Andy Davis for his diligence an reliability: he had never done, nor he would ever do, something that could be considered excessively reckless, or dangerous. But for some reason, that day...he did. If he had just looked at where he was going, if he had just paid attention to the road, he would've seen and heard a car approaching. At full speed.

"WATCH OUT BOY!"

He raised his head just in time to see an intense, yellowish light hitting him. His sight meshed up as he hovered and reeled in the air, and he felt a sharp, agonizing pain running through the back of his skull as he hitted to the ground forcefully.

The last thing he could recall was a warm and sticky feeling engulfing him, but he couldn't know it was due to the scarlet puddle of blood rapidly leaking out from his head: his darkening, fading sight, soon blacked out.

_"Somebody call 911!"  
_

As he did._  
_

* * *

**THE END**

Nah, just **kidding**! XD

Holy cow O_O What did I do? Now _that _is a cliff-hanger! A bit shorter than Chapter 1, but full of action I'd say. I liked to play between Woody and Buzz's point of view, and finally we're starting to see some real confrontation. Some details are unveiled, but a lot more are thrown in (did you get some hints? =P)...so, what do you think?  
You might have noticed I've added titles to the chapters, as well as I put the main parts of the previous ones at the beginning of the new chapter, just to help you remember what happened before! I hope you like those changes ^-^

As I said, I would love some more reviews, it would be easier for me to go on if I know what you think.  
And it's kinda demotivating seeing that number unfaltering! ='( **_If you want to know more, leave a review and I'll make sure to update as soon as possible!_** ^_-

And now...

**REVIEWS CORNER!** ^O^

**Dark Sepia:** this update came way sooner than the first one, I hope I made you happy! You said the paragraphing need some work, what do you mean exactly? I would be glad to correct any mistake or inaccuracy! ;D  
It's been a pleasure reading your review, feel free to underline everything you don't like or you think it should be modified, I'd love that! I'm happy you liked the first chapter! You were right, Woody had "hurted" her (as much as a plastic hat can hurt lol XD), so well done! What do you think about this chapter?

**Blackwolf** As you can see, he didn't come to life before her. Well, he did, but she hadn't noticed XD I would love to read your story, if you'd give me the link, I'd be more than happy! I didn't actually have time, lately, to read, but I LOVE Woody and Andy, so it's always a pleasure to see any sort of tribute about them. I'm extremely pleased you liked the Andy part, I really wanted to give an introspection of him, showing his point of view as well. I'm not sure you liked what happened to him in this chapter, although! =PP

**Zappa** Oh, thanks so much for your words! It makes my heart burst out of joy when people underline some parts of my stories I worked hard on, showing me I reached my goals: this is a story I want to unfold gradually, that is why I work hard to make sure the reader has in mind exactly what's going on, every little detail. I also appreciate that you told me not to exaggerate with certain words, I tried my best not to with this chapter! Thanks so much for your suggestions, I'd love to read more! =D

**Klenoa **Aw, thank you! I hope you are gonna keep reading this story, it'd be nice to read another review of yours! ^o^

**THANKS FOR READING MY STORY, DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!** Until next time! ^_-


	4. Chapter 3: Balancing

**.-.-.-. New POLL in my profile: which bond do you like best? ****.-.-.-.**  
**1)Woody&Andy  
2)Woody&Buzz  
3)Buzz&Andy**

**Vote now! =D**

* * *

**Check out my** _**Toy Story Tribute (Woody&Andy)**_ at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=yCrK-7xCGrQ

**And my other _Toy Story Tribute (Trilogy-funny) _**at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=cmCsEWZAWfQ

Or just **_look on Youtube for MisakiKyuuki_**

* * *

**Author's Note: **My, I can't believe I actually got this done! I wanted _badly_ to update in the past few weeks, but the more I tried to, the more that darn writer's block kept haunting me. I cannot stand it when I'm willing, _craving _to write but nothing good comes out, it drives me crazy! =[ Oh well. I menaged to do it, after weeks of suffering. Yaaaaaayyyyyy ^O^  
Oh, I switched the rating from "K+" to "T", you know, just in case! ;)

Gah, it's late at night! No wait...it's EASTER °-° Happpppppppppy Easter everyooooooooooooooneeeeeeeee! ^O^ I hope you like this easter egg then ;D

Enjoy! =D

* * *

**On the previous chapters**_  
_

_He had wondered why, several times by now. Why had Woody jumped out of that box, the college box?__  
He had never stopped thinking about that day, and that was one of the main reasons he was so committed to his studies.__"You should get outta here Andy. Y'know, get some fresh air or whatever."_

_No more than half a dozen inches away laid his cowboy hat. The same hat he had hurled against her head, in a desperate attempt to break his leg free from her hand. From a destiny he just could not bring himself to accept._  
_"I need to leave!" He reached the windowsill. And he was out._  
_Every birthday, every year passing by...they were a constant reminder of an incontrovertible truth: Andy was growing up. And sooner than he could realize, the moment had come: the day he left._  
_He watched him silently, from afar, wondering what he could do to help but finding no answer. He was changing. Relentlessly._

_If he had just looked at where he was going, if he had just paid attention to the road, he would've seen and heard a car approaching. At full speed._  
_"WATCH OUT BOY!"_  
_He raised his head just in time to see an intense, yellowish light hitting him. His sight meshed up as he hovered and reeled in the air, and he felt a sharp, agonizing pain running through the back of his skull as he hitted to the ground forcefully._  
_The last thing he could recall was a warm and sticky feeling engulfing him, but he couldn't know it was due to the scarlet puddle of blood rapidly leaking out from his head: his darkening, fading sight, soon blacked out._  
_"Somebody call 911!"_

_As he did._

* * *

**DEPARTURE**

**Chapter 3****  
**_Balancing  
_**  
**

He had tried.  
He had truly, willingly, strenuously tried.  
Yet, he couldn't help but falling and failing, rovinously. Over, and over again.  
Because no matter how much he forced himself to, no matter how much he craved for it, no matter how much he _needed _it.  
He just could not bring himself to leave his past behind and move on._ To let go_.

He leaned his right hand against the wet, icy window glass in front of him, staring longingly inside. He looked at her small figure from afar, as she rested inside of the warm and welcoming room: her hair was scattered untidily on the pillow, its loose wisps radiantly catching and reflecting the pale moonlight's rays, while her chest rhythmically swelled and deflated under her silent breath.  
His eyes softened at the sight.

_You're acting like a doll, Woody! Like an empty, soulless doll!_

Buzz's words pierced painfully through his mind.

"That is what I am, Buzz" he said to himself. "A doll" he gremaced. "And I..." he balled his fingers alongside the pane in front of him, his head leaning into them, as his crestfallen eyes dropped uninterestedly towards his boots. "I won't ever be anything else."

How much longer would he have remembered him?  
Yes, he had loved him. He had cherished him and had taken care of him like anyone _ever _did, engulfing him with a kind of affection he thought could never exist.  
He had donated him the life he was never given the chance to live.  
And those genuine, heartfelt words he had bestowed upon him the day they parted were just the final testimony of a life full of loyalty and togetherness.  
But he was 17, back then. He had a foot still firmly planted into childhood. And he knew that, eventually, there would have been a point of no return in his life, where he would have finally, fully grown up. Where he couldn't have considered him as a friend, any longer. Where he would have forgotten about most of his childhood memories.  
_About him_.

But wasn't that what he wanted? What really did matter?  
He had understood that, if his happiness was worth more than anything else, that would have meant being unselfish: it was the reason why he had chosen to let him go in the first place, jumping out of _the _box.  
He knew he had taken the right decision back then, and besides, he _did_ want Andy to grow up into the responsible man he knew was dwelling inside of him, making him prouder than he ever was.  
He wanted him to learn how to take care of himself, to enjoy every opportunity life had to offer him. He wanted him to _live_.  
And he had realized that, no matter how old he could grew, no matter where he was or how far he could've gone, Andy would have always been part of him. Their past together had now become a memory, but that didn't mean it never existed.  
He would have always remembered those joyful, extraordinary years they shared.  
_He_ would have never forgotten.  
And that was enough.

As a matter of fact, the real issue was not that one.

Was _he _ready to move on?  
To face the consequences of his own choices, finding his path away from the only person who had ever loved him?  
Could he really stand a life without Andy?

The answer had seemed logical, the day he left.  
It would have been one of the hardest obstacles he would have ever had to overcome in his life, but he knew that, with his companions' support and Bonnie's welcoming lovingness, he would've successfully got through it, eventually.  
Besides, he had already experienced the loss of people he cared about before, and he had long since learned how to cope with that. It wouldn't have been any different this time.  
But the more time went by, the more his certainties started to falter.  
His pain did not subside: instead, it did nothing but overwhelmingly sink into him, broadening to an extent he could not even believe possible.  
He had tried to ignore it. To dismiss it. To deny it.  
But as much as he had striven to deceive himself, he could not pretend it was not real. Not anymore.  
That was the reason why, that night, he got back to the only place he had ever felt as his home, hoping it could bring him answers to questions he wasn't even fully aware of: Andy's room.

_If I could really talk to you...If I could find a way..._

There was so much he wanted to say: thoughts he had harboured for _years_, and never shared with anyone. Menacing to burst out of his chest, any minute.

_Talk about friendship, and loyalty. Talk about how much you mean to me._

The moment he saw him climbing into his car, something had snapped into him: the fear it could've been the last time he saw him.  
That had been the spring that pushed him to run after him: not thinking. Not knowing.  
Not _bearing_.

_The day I met you, was the luckiest day of my life._

And then, he soon had to face how a life without him would've been, putting up with a sense of loneliness he could not bring himself to get rid of. Knowing something was just so terribly _wrong_.  
Feeling immeasurably, guiltily selfish for having such thoughts.

_Just tell me you love me, like I love you.  
_  
Would he have forgotten about him?

_Don't you turn your back on me. Don't you walk away._

Was being remembered as nothing more a toy he liked to play with the best he could have ever hoped for?

_So don't forget, if the future should take you away...that you'll aways be, part of me._

Would he have ever seen him again?

_I just can't take it...when we're apart._

"You're wrong."

He turned around.

"You're far more than just a _doll_."

"Buzz?" he stared at him, eyes wide-open. After all that happened, he would've never expected anyone to come after him. Not him, of all people.

"I think you forgot this" he held his cowboy hat out to him.

He immidiately averted his gaze away, as if the mere sight of it could burn his eyes. "I don't want it."

"Come on, Woody" he said sympathetically. "You haven't hurted her. She's fine."

"Doesn't matter" he replied curt, mostly to himself. "I shouldn't have done it. For _any _reason."

"You are right. You shouldn't have" he admonished. "But I can understand why you did it" his voice soothed.

He raised his eyes, surprised. "You do?"

"Yes. I do" he answered, approaching him. "The question is, do you?"

He took an unsconscious step backwards, his padded shoulders brushing against the window behind him.

"Listen, Woody. I..." he paused, as if pondering weather to keep speaking. "I need you to talk to me. To know what's going on with you" he said, clutching the brown piece of plastic in his hand tightly.

He stared at his now partly outstretched arm, uncertain.  
His small mahogany eyes raised, meeting a matching pair of cerulean ones.  
"Please. No more lies" he kept on. "No more hiding" he said, holding out his hat once again: he was asking him for honesty. Something he had been neglecting for just too long.  
He took the hat.

"I will."

His thin, brownish eyebrows raised, not really expecting such an answer. Taking in what had just happened, his upward lip shifted aside, showing some of his upper teeth in an incredulous, half-smile.

"So" he started catiously. He had to make sure to proceed step by step, the last thing he wanted was to rush the matter up: it took him so long for that little sign openness into the wall of silence he had so tenaciously built around himself, he couldn't take the risk of a backfire. Not now. Not _for the world_.

"Why di-"

"Wait" he interrupted instantly, knotting his eyebrows as he looked aside.

"Wha-"

"Shhh!" he whispered, ducking behind the window's frame and pulling his arm to make him do the same.

"Someone's coming" he stated, looking inside And-_Molly's _room. "I hear footsteps."

* * *

Hurried footsteps, indeed. That moment, Mrs. Davis broke into the room, turning the little nightstand lamp on.

"Mmmmmm..."

"Honey, please, _wake up_" she urged, shaking her daughter's slumbering form.

She sounded upset, somehow. Almost...alarmed?

"M-mom?" she asked confused, her eyelids halfway open. "Is it morning already?"

"No. But you have to get up."

"What? Why? I'm sleepy!" she complained confused, not fully awaken yet.

"Molly" the woman said sternly. "Now, listen carefully. I need you to get dressed and be downstairs in _five_ minutes. No questions."

"_What_?" she exclaimed indignantly. "It's..._gah_, it's midnight! Mom, I don't understand! What's going on?"

But she was already leaving the room.

"Hey, no, w-wait! Mom, what the heck?" she hurried after her, tugging at her forearm.

She felt its muscles going rigid under her hand.

"Do" she spoke slowly. "As I told you." Unchaining the limb from her grip, she resumed her way onwards.

Her tone was unnaturally forced, low: something that got her scared beyond belief.  
That was why, purely out of instinct, she reacted in the only way she could menage to.  
She started to rant.

"Aw, I mean, come on! This is crazy! You can't wake me up in the middle of the night-"

"Molly..."

"-demanding me to get dressed and-"

"Molly..."

"-expect me not to ask any question!"

"Molly!"

"_Mom_! Whar _is _going on!"

"WILL YOU JUST SHUT THAT MOUTH AND OBLIGE ALREADY!" she turned abruptly towards her, hovering her small frame. Her entire body was shaking, her cheecks violently flushed and one arm menacingly raised, as if she was about to hit her.

She stepped backwards, utterly terrified. She had _never _seen her mother in such a state before.

"M-mom" she stammered, trembling. "You're...you're crying"

She looked at the kid as if she was seeing her for the first time, freezing. She lowered her hand down to her cheeck, just to realize her daughter was right: she _was _crying.

Then, she was struck with consciousness.

"Oh..." she watched her palm, bewildered. "_Oh_..." then she looked at her daughter, still cowering a few feet away.

"Molly, honey, I...I'm so sorry, I-I don't know..._God_" she clenched a hand on her eyes, suppressing a sigh.

"Mom..." she approached her warily, laying a hand upon her shoulder. "It's...it's ok. Whatever it is, it's ok" she tried to comfort.

In response, she shifted her body sideways, engulfing her in a tight hug which she returned warmly.

"Thanks. I'm sorry. So sorry" she squeezed her even harder, almost suffocating her. Then, after some time, she let go. Brushing away some teardrops escaped in spite of her will, she straightened back up.

"Now, I really do need you to get dressed. And" she added, preventing any further question "I'll explain everything to you as soon as we get into the car. Alright?"

"Okay" she said, trying her best to sound convincing.

The truth was, she had still to recover from her mother's previous outburst: something had to be happened, and she was both eager and dreading to know about it.

* * *

They looked at one another, utterly dumbstruck. After a long while, Buzz was the first one to speak up.

"Let's get down."

He jerked his head towars him, caught unawares. "What?"

"We need to sneak into the car before they leave" he said matter-of-factly.

"You want to _follow_ them?"

"Well, there's most certainly something wrong here, and I'm resolved to find out what that is. Why, aren't you?"

"I...of course I am. But, what about Bonnie? And the others?" he asked hesitant.

"We'll get back before they notice. At least, I hope so. Come on, hurry up!" he exhorted, as he quickly slid down the gutter.

"Hey! Wait up!" he run after him.

They rushed to the garage, hiding behind an old, tattered box, watching from behind as Mrs. Davis hurriedly throwed a bag inside of the car.

"Unbelievable. I forgot the house keys. The _damn _keys!" she said, throwing a frustrated punch on the opened back door. She then clutched both of her hands on its side, her head hunging helplessly down. "Not again" she whispered to herself. "_Not again_" her trembling, mornful voice repeated.

"Mom?" a voice called out.

She raised her head, instantly snapping out of her numbness. "Coming" she said, getting back into the house.

That was their chance.  
They quickly reached the open trunk, slipping into the large blue sports bag just placed inside of it. A few minutes later, Mrs. Davis and her daughter were on their way back, getting into the vehicle.  
Soon enough, they were already driving through the neighborhood.  
He looked at the space ranger as he tried, in vain, to find some sort of balance onto the uneven ground beneath them, the chronic maneuvres of the car making the task even harder.

"I can't-gah! I can't stand on this _thing_!" he complained, annoyed.

He smiled genuinely at his funny attempts. "Now, look at who's taken a liking to _cargo area _travelling, huh?" he smirked.

He regarded him perplexedly, as his butt thumped again on the ground. He was standing perfectly up, arms crossed, making it seem like it was the easiest thing in the world.  
He immediately recognized it: that conceited, defiant attitude. And, for the first time in a long while, he could actually see him. _Woody_.  
Not a put-on mask, not the reflex of what he used to be: Woody was being Woody again.

"Well, a long time ago someone has told it's the best place for hiding, if you don't want to get caught" he replied smug.

"Then I'm sure you can trust him. Whoever it is, he seems like a heck of a guy."

"You know, he can be troublesome at times, and not to mention, annoyingly overconfident. But yes. _He is_" he said affectionately.

He smiled back in response, warmly.

"Oh, and...Buzz?"

"Yes, Woody?"

"I..." he scratched his neck, awkward, casting his eyes down. "Thanks." he looked back up. "For everything".

He smiled as well. "Anytime, cowboy".

And in that little, precious moment, everything seemed back to the way it used to be. Was supposed to be.  
To the way it should always have been.  
So maybe there was a chance, an _actual_ chance he could get his friend back. With, or _without_ Andy.  
Maybe _he _was enough.

Too bad, his hopes wouldn't have lasted any longer.

The car steered again, and this time, caught off guard, Woody himself fell, his face slamming against what he could now feel as a clothed surface beneath him.

"Seems like I'm not the only one having trouble with balancing, huh?" he gloated. But, as he heard no response, he hurried after him. "Woody? Are you ok?"

"This doesn't make any sense" he stated, propelling his chest up with his hands. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a closer look making use of the intermittent streetlamps light filtering through the zip.

* * *

Her heel had been tapping on the tufted car mat for a good five minutes now. Her gaze bounced incessantly from her clasped, churning hands in her lap, to the rear mirror, to her shoe, to the side window.

She couldn't take it any longer.

"So" she spoke out, distressed. "What...what's going on?"

She kept staring at the road, showing no sign of having heard her, as her only reaction was tightening her grip on the leather steering wheel.

"_Mom_" she repeated, the tension welling up. "What-"

"You can't really wait, now, can you?" she said dully, still not shifting her eyes from the road.

"I...no. Mom, _please_. Stop with all this secrecy, this..._ah_, it's eating me up! Just _tell me!_" she bursted.

That moment, the car was slowly pulled into a stop.

"W-where are we?"

"Nowhere, actually. But I couldn't talk to you about this while driving."

She kept silent, her heart skipping up to her throat as she clenched the door armrest forcefully.

She finally turned towards her, her expression unreadable.

"It's about Andy."

* * *

**Author's note:** First and foremost: if you find _any_ sort of mistake/inaccuracy (grammatical ones, for example), please _make me notice_. I would really, really appreciate that =3

I know. I'm purely evil, now, am I? Originally, this chapter was not meant to end here, but the more I wrote it, the more it got _way_ too long, so just I _had_ to split it.  
As you might have noticed, the dialogical parts exceed narrations and descriptions this time, but after 3 chapters full of them, I hope you won't mind too much =P  
Geez, I think it's the hardest one I've written so far, and even when I finally menaged to write the most of it (so long, writer's block!), it took me about two weeks to define it the way I wanted.

About Woody's thougts, I borrowed the words from _Randy Newman_'s extraordinary song _"We Belong Together"_. I couldn't have said it any better!  
Whenever I hear it, I always marvel both about how such sad lyrics are so greatly matched with that happy rythm, and about how perfectly, absolutely _perfectly_ they describe Woody's feelings towards Andy.

So. I really _needed_ this chapter.

In the first place _I had to make clear_, at least partly, the reasons that led me to write this story itself, or, in other words, the reasons that led _Woody_ to behave like that. I'm not a fool, I've seen the third movie: I perfectly _got_ the meaning behind it and I _strove_ to make this story plausible and coherent with what happened. Yes, Woody was _willing_ to go on, to let Andy go for his sake. But there's always a difference between what you want or expect, and what things turn out to be.  
Not to mention, if you recall the 2nd movie when Andy left for Cowboy Camp without him, he shut himself off on the shelf without so much of a word. In Toy Story 3, when he stared longingly at the old picture of him and Andy pinned to his board, he doesn't even turn to Buzz, who got there to comfort him: he doesn't share his sufferings with anyone but himself.

There's _always_ a reason behind what I write and the way I write it, for each single word to be there and to be it (only to mention, for each chapter I've got at least 15 modified versions of it), just keep that in mind.  
With this I'm not saying you have to like or agree with what I write, of course. Just read carefully, and if there's something you don't like or you think that can be improved, I'd be the happiest person in the world to know about it: that means I can learn from my mistakes and be a better writer.

**I need your feedback (i.e. reviews) to go on!**

Another reason I needed this chapter for, was that I resolved myself to show "Woody being Woody again", to give some sort of sign of the old good normalcy. At least for a bit.

Gah, I'm such a logorrheic! XD

So, what do you think about this chapter?

**_I need your reviews_**** to go on**, and as I always say, _you don't need to be logged in to comment on my story_. You have nooooo idea how _happy _you make me when I got a notice that says I've got a new one! =3 Pretty ppleeeeeease?

Alrighty, I'll stop begging now XD Let's get tooooooo...

**REVIEWS CORNER **for the win! ^O^

**Cerulean Pen: **And I freaking loved that you said you freaking loved it! *-* I'm happy you liked the part describing Woody's adaptation, that had been really tricky to write. Poor Bonnie, I know! At least she's not hurt! =P About Andy...hum. *shuts her lips* Can't really say anything about it. *Hides fearing painful retaliation XD* Next update is coming soon, I hope that helps! x3

**Blackwolf:** Aw, my faithful reader! It's always a pleasure to read your reviews! ^O^ About the accident, I can't comment on it dammit! _  
Another drama fan, that's great! *-* Generally speaking, I like thinking Woody and Andy miss eachother equally: at the beginning of Toy Story 3, it was Woody who remarked his loyalty towards him, despite the fact he was grown up, and at the end, the roles were reversed, and it was Andy who had to force himself to let go of him. One way or another, through the entire saga, they always strove to get together, and I love that.

I hope you liked the description of Woody's feelings in this chapter as well, and about your story, I started to read it! I could menage only to read a few chapters, but so far, the plot is very interesting. I loved when Woody saved Andy, that part was written really good. I hope I can leave a full review ASAP!

**Dark Sepia: **Another faithful reader! *-* Thanks so much for your tip! You know, it's something I tend to do because I'm always afraid to break the unity of the narration of some parts, or to make the chapters too long and tiring to read. But I guess that could lead to the opposite effect, if overdone. This time, I tried to make the paragraphs a bit shorter! If you think there is any other mistake, let me notice, I really do appreciate that!_ "I did not see the ending coming; evidently, neither did Andy! "_ LMAO! XDD I know I can be _evil_ *smiles eerily* Poor him, seriously! °-° I hope I'm keeping your interest! ^O^

**SodeNoZangetsu**: Aww, thank you! I hope I'm keeping your attention ;D So, what do you think about my tributes? I hope you liked them! And I agree, there should be more videos about Toy Story *shakes her head approvingly*

**LostVoice:** Thanks so much for saying that, I'm really trying my best to keep everyone on character. I hope this chapter explains better the reasons behind this story, I can't wait to read another review of yours! =D

**Anna: **Curious. The "worst thing I eva read" is your mortification of the English language. Never said you have to like my story (as you might have noticed, I ask _everywhere _to make me know if there's something wrong with it), but instead of unpolitely trample on what took _months _of hard work (something you can't exactly say about your kind review), you could've as well written what exactly you didn't like about it. If there's something I cannot stand, is impoliteness.  
Furthermore, this story is rated "T" so don't worry, the "childred", as you call them, can sleep peacefully. No way I'm gonna give up on this story, sorry, there are too many people I can't disappoint ^_-

**kagomehater4ever:** Thanks so much for reading it and for being so kind to leave a review! I appreciate it a lot! ;D

**Ociana:** Thanks for putting this story among your favourites! I hate I can't comment one bit about what happened to Andy, darn it! I hope you liked this chapter as well! =3

**Orchid Child:** You know, you made me smile and grin through your entire review. I smiled, because your words are so kind and heartwarming they really made my day =3 I grinned, because the moment I got a review alert, I was actually working on the story, committing every fiber of my being to complete this chapter! *ohh, that sounds poetic XD* I was so surprised!  
So I hope _this_ soon is enough XD Thank you, sincerely! ^-^

**_THANKS EVERYONE FOR READING THIS STORY, FOR INCLUDING IT OR MY PROFILE AMONG YOUR FAVOURITES OR YOUR ALERTS,  
THANKS FOR BEING SO KIND TO REVIEW AND TO KEEP READING IT!_**

**YOU ARE ALL A CONSTANT INSPIRATION FOR ME. I COULDN'T GO ON WITHOUT YOU!**

**You repay me of every effort I make to write, you're the reason I keep updating.**

From the bottom of my heart, _thank you_.

**[P.S.:]**Check out my profile or my **Twitter **account **MisakiKyuuki** for news about the next chapter's development!

Until next time! ^_~


	5. Chapter 4: Letting Go

**.-.-.-. New POLL in my profile: which bond do you like best? ****.-.-.-.**  
**1)Woody&Andy  
2)Woody&Buzz  
3)Buzz&Andy**

**Vote now! =D**

* * *

**Check out my** _**Toy Story Tribute (Woody&Andy)**_ at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=yCrK-7xCGrQ

**And my other _Toy Story Tribute (Trilogy-funny) _**at http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=cmCsEWZAWfQ

Or just **_look on Youtube for MisakiKyuuki_**

* * *

**Author's Note:** If you need to ask me anything or if you're curious about the next chapter's development, feel free to send me a PM, check out my profile or to contact me on my Twitter page MisakiKyuuki ! ;)  
And now, enjoy!

* * *

**On the previous chapters**

_If he had just looked at where he was going, he would've seen and heard a car approaching. At full speed.__  
"WATCH OUT BOY!"_  
_The last thing he could recall was a warm and sticky feeling engulfing him, but he couldn't know it was due to the scarlet puddle of blood rapidly leaking out from his head: his darkening, fading sight, soon blacked out._  
_"Somebody call 911!"  
As he did._

_He had tried.  
But no matter how much he forced himself to, he just could not bring himself to leave his past behind and move on.__ To let go_.  
How much longer would he have remembered him?  
That night, he got back to the only place he had ever felt as his home, hoping it could bring him answers to questions he wasn't even fully aware of: Andy's room.  
"Please, Woody. No more lies. No more hiding" he said, holding out his hat once again: he was asking him for honesty. Something he had been neglecting for just too long. "I will."  
"Molly, I need you to get dressed and be downstairs in _five_ minutes."  
They quickly reached the open trunk, slipping into the large blue sports bag just placed inside of it. "I..." he scratched his neck, awkward, casting his eyes down. "Thanks." he looked back up. "For everything". "Anytime, cowboy". And in that little, precious moment, everything seemed back to the way _it should always have been._  
_So maybe there was a chance he could get his friend back. With, or without Andy._  
_Maybe he was enough.  
Too bad, his hopes wouldn't have lasted any longer._

_"It's about Andy."_

* * *

**DEPARTURE**

**Chapter 4**_  
Letting go_

Death.  
He had always considered it as an empty, meaningless word, before that day.  
So far, he had learned that it was used to describe people who, for some reason, stopped breathing: something apparently indispensable for human beings to talk and move.  
Therefore, becoming of no use for the society, people labelled as 'dead' were placed, after a long and solemn cerimony, into what seemed like a thick, polished wooden container: he had honestly no idea what would they do confined into such a narrow dark place all day long, without anyone to keep them company. Were they sleeping? Or resting, maybe? Waiting to get better so they could resume their habitual lives?

"This...this is all my fault" the woman hiccupped in a whisper, the black fabric of her sober, plain dress swaying slightly. "I shouldn't have let this happen, I should have never let you go...if I just...just..." she crouched to the coffin, gripping tightly onto its side as she slowly slid to the ground.  
That was not supposed to happen. Things should have gone in a _completely_ different way. And yet, there he was: brutally torn away from what could have been a long and happy life, deprived of every chance live his youth.  
She felt the presence someone approaching her. "Oh, Andy...my poor baby..." she clutched his stiff, cold hand into hers, biting into her lower lip.  
"Mom?"  
She turned her puffy, bloodshot eyes away. She didn't want her kid to see her in such a state, she had to force herself to keep strong. "It's gonna be alright, honey. We'll see it through...I-I promise" she said as she got back up, looking at the pale, light-haired young man laying lifeless in front of her. She bent forward to place a brief, delicate kiss on his forehead, her mouth slightly brushing his soft fringe. "I love you. I always will" she whispered, squeezing her eyes hard to prevent further teardrops to roll down her cheecks.

How long had she been there? Minutes? Hours? She couldn't exactly tell: everything seemed to spin so, so wildly around her, as if she was stuck into a labyrintic nightmare she couldn't escape from. And so she just kept there, unmoving, lost within herself. But, she finally realized, it was now time for her to find a way out: if not for herself, for the kid beside her, who was now looking with lost, empty eyes at...

"I don't understand" the boy stated, shaking. "You said he was going to be fine...y-you said he's in a better place now, but why...he is..." he blurted out confusedly.

"Andy, no! You shouldn't look at-get back!" she squealed, pulling at her son's arm. "Listen" she continued. "He _is_ in a better place, it's just...his body is still here, so we can come and say hi. And he might look d-_this_ way now, but that's just because he's...very tired."

To be honest, she hadn't the slightest idea of what she was saying. Besides, explaining her kid why his father couldn't be part of his life any longer, was something she would have never expected to think about, and always refused to over the past months. So, she just hoped her words to sound convincing enough.

"But," the kid complained, still not cognisant of what was going on "can't he come with us back home? He can rest there and we can wait for him to wake up!" he insisted.

She sighed heavily, distressed, running her fingers through her hair. "No, he can't. We can come here whenever we want, and talk to him, though. As I told you, his...his soul is in heaven, so he won't be able to answer. But he can hear us" she managed to utter, her throat painfully soaring for the strain.

"Does that mean..." he lowered his big baby-blue eyes, tears waving on his lower eyelids. "He doesn't love us anymore? Mom, did I do something wrong? Is daddy angry at me, is this why he won't come back?" he sniffled hard, his eyebrows knotted low, as he clutched the little cowboy doll in his arms even harder than he had been in the past two hours.

"Oh, Andy..." she looked at him with helpless eyes, and she was glad he didn't raise his to see her woeful, devastated expression. The fact that her four-year-old baby boy could even possibly think it was _his _fault his father died, was the final stroke to her already shattered heart.

"Come here" she skidded to the ground, hugging him tightly. "You didn't do _anything_ wrong. You get it?" she backed off just a bit, so she could look at his still downwards face. Raising his chin slowly with one finger, as he was reclutant to look anywhere else besides the floor, she repeated "Do you get it, Andy? Your father loved you and your sister more than _anything_ in the world. There is _no way _you could be responsible for that" she said, looking straight into his eyes.

"Then why, mom? Why did he left?" he asked, tears now falling freely on his candid, innocent lineaments, his face struck with pain and uncertainty.

"I don't know" she engulfed him in her arms once again. "I don't know, honey".

Death.  
He would have never imagined it could be such a strong, meaningful word.  
He had learnt it was used to describe people who, for some reason, stopped breathing, and therefore, _existing_.  
Thus, leaving their body without a soul, people labelled as 'dead' were placed, after a long and solemn funeral, into a thick, polished wooden coffin: it was a way for people to remember their once loved ones.

A soft, delicate breeze swayed his hat, tickling his nose with the fresh scent of the vernal flora he was surrounded by. Early sparrows performed happily their melodious chirps, and warm, bright sunbeams bathed the landscape in their glorious splendour.  
A spiteful, wicked mockery, in a day that would have kept haunting his worst nightmares for a long, long time.  
He felt Andy squeezing him against his chest, something he had been doing quite oftenly that month, arms crossed securely around him. He could feel the dull, raced beat of his heart, as he watched his mother placing some white roses on the gray, cold tombstone in front of him, that read

**GREGORY ANDREW DAVIS**  
**Beloved Husband and Father**  
**01/07/1961-05/18/1993**

Greg.  
The first person he had met, when he was only a 6-year-old little boy, and had known for 27 years. The same person he knew he would have never seen again.  
He felt something wet landing onto his slick cheeck. Then, another one. And another one.  
The kid collapsed on the grass, as if his legs couldn't bear the weight of his body any longer, scratching his bare knees on the pointed pebbles of the yard. "_Daddy_..." he whispered among frantic hiccups, his breaths shortening. He crouched himself on the ground, balling his body into a shell, his eyes squeezing hard at the motion.

"Just promise" he finally said, raising the doll up so he could look directly into its plastic eyes. "Promise me you're never going to leave me, Woody." He hugged him, tightly, as if he was some sort of sheet anchor he could cling onto to prevent his world to fall apart.  
And that moment, he swore to himself he would have done _anything_ to be that anchor from now on. He would have been there for him, no matter what.

"I promise, Andy" he whispered, ever so slowly.

* * *

"Mom?" she called her again.

And for the umpteenth time, she still got no response.

"_Mom!_" she raised her voice, shaking a hand in front of her nose.

"What?" she asked, snapping out of her daze. "What is it, Molly?"

"Just..." she breathed in, eager to speak, but seemed to change her mind as she sighed softly, closing her mouth and lowering her eyelids. "Forget it" she said, tightening her grip on the uncomfortable plastic chair she was sitting on, idly swinging her legs.

"Come on" the woman encouraged, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "What were you about to say?"

She raised her head again, recrutantly. "I..." she looked sideways, uncertain. "Do you think Andy's gonna be ok?"

A car accident, apparently, caused by some drunk teenagers: that was the explenation her mother had given her, as soon as she spoke with the doctors. He was now treated for what she was told to be 'just a broken arm and minor injury, nothing to worry about'.

"I am sure he is, honey. The doctors are taking care of him, and besides, he's a strong boy, you should know that."

She looked unconvinced, though. "If you say so..."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Yeah, but..."

"What's the matter?"

"Huh, I don't know. Some _bastard_ knocked my brother down, and then run away without even making sure he was _okay_, what about that?"

"Now watch your mouth, missy" she scolded. "You're in a hospital, and that is not the appropriate language for a-"

"Mom I'm _worried_!" she snapped, twisting nervously a lace pending from her pocket. "And I will be till I see him! I-I know you told me he's going to be fine _but_! I'm sorry, I can't help it!"

"I'm sorry."

"Wha...?" she looked at her, astonished, not expecting such an answer. An _apology_, nonetheless.

"You are right, you're worried. I am, too. You know, I'm not really that fond of hospitals" she confessed, honestly.

"How come?"

"It's just...they bring back bad memories."

"You...you're talking about dad? Were you thinking about him before?"

"Yes, and yes, honey."

It utterly marvelled that how her mother was opening up so easily with her. She was always considered as a kid, the one who had to be left outside every rilevant discussion or matter of whatsoever. It was the first time she was actually treated like an adult, something she had always asked for and always got angry about whenever denied.

"Had he...had he suffered much when he was ill?" she asked catiously. All she knew was that he had died of cancer when she was only an infant: she had seen some old pictures, depicting a very tall, dark blonde haired man, with soft lineaments and a slightly marked jaw. He looked a lot like her brother, actually. Apart from that, all she knew was that he excelled in numerous sports, and that he was a very smart and lettered man, something peculiar for a man who never got an academic degree.  
Little were the moments she had the chance she hadto talk about him, and usually it was her mother she had her answers from. Actually, she couldn't exactly recall Andy talking about him _at all_: he would always try to avoid or dismiss her questions, trying to change the subject or chasing her away because he was 'busy'.

"Honestly? I don't really now. He would never let what he was really feeling to show, but he could read through your mind in a matter of istants" she remembered, smiling. "He was a very strong and determined man, this I can tell. He struggled with every inch of his body, every single day..." she trailed off, her expression glooming. "You know, to some degree Andy is very much like him. Yes, he's far more emotional than your father liked to be, but he's a fighter: he gets through whatever he sets his mind to. And that is why I'm convinced he's going to be ok."

"But it's already been an hour, and we still don't know anything..."

"That means we won't have to wait much longer. Now, why don't you take a nap? It's past 2AM, after all."

"Hmm. I don't really feel" as if on clue, she yawned soundly. "...like it" she mumbled, scrubbing her eyes giddily.

"You don't huh?" she giggled. "Then why don't you just lay your head on my shoulder? At least you can rest your eyes, don't you think?"

She looked at her, pondering. Resting her _eyes_ a bit seemed not such a bad idea, after all. That didn't imply she was going to sleep. "Alright" she consented, fluttering her eyes closed. And soon enough, she was soundly asleep.

* * *

The car steered again, and this time, caught off guard, he himself fell, his face slamming against what he could now feel as a clothed surface beneath him.

"Seems like I'm not the only one having trouble with balancing, huh?" the space ranger gloated. But, as he heard no response, he hurried after him. "Woody? Are you ok?"

"This doesn't make any sense" he stated, propelling his chest up with his hands. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a closer look making use of the intermittent streetlamps light filtering through the zip.

"We're sitting on _clothes, _Buzz" he exhaled soundly, frustrated, trying to figure out what was going on. Then, he breathed in.

He freezed.

"Clothes?" he lifted a piece of fabric himself, observing it attentively. "You're right, this seemes to be a...t-shirt? But I wonder why..." trailed off, as consciousness hit him as well. "You don't think..."

A soft, delicate, poisoned fragrance danced through his nostrils, permeating his entire system: a smell he just knew too well to be mistaken.  
He was intoxicated.

"It's about Andy."

He opened his eyes, wide.

"He's got into an accident" Mrs. Davis said.

His head snapped onwards.

"_What?_ What kind of accident? What happened?"

"All I know is he's at the Chicago Memorial Hospital, which is where we're driving to."

It couldn't be happening.

"B-but how how is he_?_ He's-"

"Taken care of by the doctors" she stated simply.

Not _again._

"But-"

"I don't know anything else, Molly" she cut short.

Not _him._

His head bent downwards, helplessly, a feeling of sorrowfulness crossing his troubled features. He was eighteen. He was a _kid_. 'Accidents' were not supposed to happen to boys his age. Not to _Andy_.  
What had happened? How was he? Was he injured?  
He leaned on the side of the sports bag, trying to figure the whole situation out. But what was there to understand, after all?  
They didn't know. And that was the worst part of it all.  
His sight drifted instintively towards Woody: his hands were gripping tightly onto the fabric of Andy's t-shirt, mouth agape, eyes wide-open, as if he was paralyzed. He just looked like a doll...like a _lifeless_ doll.  
And that very moment, he realized he was losing him. _Again_. He had to do something: and in an istant, he was at his side. As he always had been.

"Woody..._no_. You can't do this again. Do you hear me? You _can't_! He's...he's going to be ok! Woody...Woody please, _wake up!_"

_It's about Andy._

_Just promise..._

_He's had an accident.  
_

_Promise me you're never going to leave me, Woody._

_I don't know anything else.  
_

_I promise, Andy._

Words. Memories.  
They kept spinning over and over in his head, wildly, clashing viontly with one another.  
He put a trembling hand over his eyes, his jaw dropping in pure terror.

_This is all my fault.  
_

_I should have never let you go._

_He looked at the gray, cold tombstone that read..._

_Death. He had learnt people labelled as dead stopped breathing, and therefore_

Existing.

* * *

"Mrs. Davis?" she heard a doctor calling for her.

She jolted on her seat. "Yes?"

"I need to talk to you" he said somberly, his expression unreadable from behind his thick glasses.

She raised slowly, making sure not to wake Molly up, as she rested her slumbering form on the seats beside her, the large blue sports bag used as a makeshift cushion. Walking several feets away, distant enough not to risk her daughter to hear but not so far she couldn't take an eye on her, she turned to the young, white gowned man.

"So" she barely managed to utter, closing her eyes for the briefest of the moments.

_Please tell me he's ok please tell me he's ok please tell me he's_-

"You see, Mrs. Davis. When the car hit your son, the impact his head made to the ground was violent. That provoked a major internal bleeding, which we tried our best to stop as soon as he was transported to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was too late to prevent an hemorrhagic shock."

"Wha" she blurted out, her heart sinking down to her churning stomach. "What does that mean?"

He sighed helplessly. "It means he's diagnosed with a severe form of TBI. Traumatic Brain Injury."

"Is..." she said, the words stuck in her tongue. "Is he alive?"

"Technically, yes, his body is. But about his brain...we'll have to monitor him in the ICU to tell."

"How...when will we know..."

"I don't know, ma'am. The more we wait..."

Her head started to drift from left to right, slowly, as her hands made their way to her ears in complete denial. She didn't want to hear. She _refused_ to hear!

"...the less chances are for him to wake up."

* * *

**Author's note: **Alright. I know you're all waiting for Woody's reaction about what happened, and I can tell you right now, as you might have guessed, the next chapter will be fully focusing on that: this one stands for its essential premise. And don't you worry Buzz's fans, there will be more of him as well! ;)

About Andy...well, at least now you know what's happened to him. The lesson is: never listen to your roomates D: xD

About this chapter, once again, it turned out to be completely different than how I had imagined it to be. I think this story is starting to move on its own will °-°" xD Actually, the whole plot is. When I started writing "Departure", I would have never thought it could lead here, and honestly, making those characters moving into such kind of events while trying to make it all plausible, is turning out to be pretty darn tricky.

Now, I threw a lot of hints about Andy's dad in the previous chapters, and I was eager to talk about him at some point. Being the first owner of Woody, and not to mention the first person he had ever met, it came natural to think he had a massive influence in both their lives. Given that we never had the chance to see that in the movies, I guessed it could fit in this story.  
If you're wondering about his name, easy to say where I got it from: being a major fan of _House M.D._, I named Andy's father after Mr. Cranky Pants XD About 'Andrew', is something I made up as well, thinking it would have been nice for Andy to have his father's middle-name.

What else? Oh, I'm planning on a series of Toy Story one-shots. Cut scenes from Departure probably, but also some ideas I had in mind from a long time that I want to write down. My main aim is this story, but hopefully I'll post them soon! :)

Just remember this much: I'm eager to read your _**REVIEWS**_, and **_you don't need to be logged-in to leave one_**. I just want to know what you think about my story, wheather bad or good: that is the only way I can improve as a writer!  
And now, let's get to my beloved

**REVIEWS CORNER!**

**katiesparks: **Not so sure this chapter didn't ruin your childhood as well XDD By the way, if I have to be honest, I had troubles writing the Mrs. Davis/Molly part, not being exactly sure how would they react knowing Andy was in danger, and as you said, little do we know about them. But thanks for letting me know, I really appreciated it! Thank you so much for your words, I'm happy you liked this story and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! ^-^

**Misshumanoidtyphoon:** You couldn't be any nicer, I tell you! You subscribed to my Youtube channel, followed me on Twitter and deviantart...aww! That's so nice, and I really thank you for that! ^-^  
About Chapter 3, I worked really hard on the first part dealing with Woody, so I'm extremely glad you liked it that much :3 Did you like this one too? I really do hope so!

**Ociana: **Sadly I don't have much time for reading lately, but if you say so, I'll keep in mind to take a look that story ;) About Andy, I can't say anything about him, and I really am sorry about that. Just hope this chapter didn't give you a heart-attack XD :PP

**LNicol1990:** Your guess is right, considering how I ended this chapter. Buzz will most certainly have his hands full with...well, whatever follows :P 'It's a very believable idea concerning Andy and Woody' awww, thanks! It always make my heart swell with joy when I hear such things, you have no idea how glad you made me :33  
I'll take a look on the previous chapters then, I know there are plenty of idiotic mistakes, and that is why I'm always afraid to check xD But I'll muster the courage to take a close look!

**Blackwolf:** Now, what would I do without you? You commented on every chapter of this story, I could never thank you enough for that! ç_ç Just remember: no matter how long it takes, I will _always_ update Departure. Never ever doubt about that!  
Huh, I think youd' be probably cursing me right now, since you have to wait the next chapter to know about Woody's reaction XD But there is a good reason I'm waiting so much, and you'll soon know what it is.  
Sophisticated, oh my! I'm way beyond flattered! ^-^ At least, you know what's happened to Andy! :P I always love your reviews, and I hope to get more soon! =D

**kagomehater4ever:** I know, I know. Honestly, no one deserved the Best Picture Academy Award more than TS3 ._. Sadly, it's considered a "kids" movie, just because it's Disney's -.- When will people learn? ._. Anyway, I'm glad you read this story, you've been so kind! Thanks for your reviews, I'm really happy you're enjoying it :DD


	6. Chapter 5: So long, partner

**Author's Note:** Ah, the happiness! The joy! Sorry it took _this_ long to update, but with my exams between June and July, and my own "departure" (travelling three days straight to get from one country to the other is quite stressing, I can tell you), I didn't exactly have that much time to write. Nor the inspiration, that is T_T I said I would've probably updated on July, now it's the beginning of August, so, close enough. As I said, I wanted to give this chapter the time it required to be done: no matter how much I crave to update, I won't post anything I'm not satisfied with.

Enjoy your reading, and don't forget to _review_! (Weather you liked it or not, I'd be pleased to read what you have to say, and how you think the story can be improved! ;) )

And check out my **Toy Story Tributes on Youtube** (look for MisakiKyuuki), plus, the **poll** on my profile on **which bond do you like best** between Woody-Buzz or Woody-Andy! (till now, 4 votes and…4 votes –no one cares about poor Andy-Buzz I see XD)

P.S.: Now that I think about it…**HAPPY 1****ST**** BIRTHDAY DEPARTURE!** It's unbelievable I published it on July 22TH of 2010, one year ago ;_; I can perfectly remember that night when I had the inspiration to write the prologue…gee, it makes me so…so emotional! I remember…oh wait, the chapter, you're right.

ENJOY AND REVIEW! ;)

* * *

**On the previous chapters**

_"Listen, Woody. I...I need you to talk to me. To know what's going on with you. Please, no more lies...no more hiding." "I will. Oh, and, Buzz? Thank you. For everything."_  
_So maybe there was a chance, an actual chance he could get his friend back. With, or without Andy. Maybe he was enough._

_"Do you think Andy's gonna be ok?" A car accident, apparently, caused by some drunk teenagers: that was the explenation her mother had given her, as soon as she spoke with the doctors. He was now treated for what she was told to be 'just a broken arm and minor injury, nothing to worry about'. All she knew was that her father had died of cancer when she was only an infant. He looked a lot like her brother, actually, but she couldn't exactly recall Andy talking about him at all: he would always try to avoid or dismiss her questions._

_"I don't understand" the boy stated, shaking. "You said he was going to be fine...y-you said he's in a better place now, but why...he is..." he blurted out confusedly._  
_"Andy, get back!" Explaining her four-year-old baby boy why his father couldn't be part of his life any longer, was something she would have never expected to think about._  
_Death: he would have never imagined it could be such a strong, meaningful word._  
_He had learnt it was used to describe people who, for some reason, stopped breathing, and therefore, existing._  
_"Daddy..." he whispered among frantic hiccups. "Just promise" he finally said. "Promise me you're never going to leave me, Woody." He hugged him, tightly._  
_"I promise, Andy."_

_"You see, Mrs. Davis. When the car hit your son, the impact his head made to the ground was violent. That provoked a major internal bleeding, which we tried our best to stop as soon as he was transported to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was too late to prevent an hemorrhagic shock. His body is alive, but about his brain...we'll have to monitor him in the ICU to tell. The more we wait...the less chances are for him to wake up."_

* * *

**DEPARTURE**

**Chapter 5  
**_So long, partner_

"_Buzz, I-" he knelt on the ground, helplessly. There was no reason to hold it back, after all. "…Buzz I can't do this without you!" he lowered his eyes. "I need your help" he finally admitted._

"_I can't help" he barely whispered, lost within himself. "I can't help anyone."_

"_Why sure you can Buzz! You can get me outta here! And then I'll get that rocket off you! And we'll make a break for Andy's house!"_

"_Andy's house, Sid's house…what's the difference?"_

"_Oh, Buzz! You've had a big fall, you must not be thinking clearly!"_

"_No, Woody" he finally turned towards him. "For the first time I _am_ thinking clearly. You were right all along, I'm not a space ranger." He looked at his left arm, as he flapped its little wing open: the _MADE IN TAIWAN_ notch was still there, intact, ready to mock him whenever he dared to take a look. To remind him of a truth he couldn't escape from any longer: " I'm just a toy, a stupid little insignificant toy!"_

"_Wow, hey, wait a minute, being a toy is _a lot_ better than being a- a space ranger!"_

"_Yeah, right."_

"_No, it is! Look, over in that house there's a kid who thinks you're the greatest, and it's not because you're a space ranger, pal! It's because you're a toy! You're _his _toy!"_

"_But why would Andy want me?"_

"_Why would Andy want _you_? Look at you! You're a Buzz Lightyear! Any other toy would give up his moving parts just to be you! You've got _wings_! You glow in the dark! You talk! Your helmet does that…that- that woosh thing! You are a _cool _toy!"_ _He peeked at him with the corner of his eye: he could see, for the first time, sincerity in his eyes. He truly meant what he said, every single word. So why? Why had he been such a jerk, constantly opposing him in every possible way?_

"_As a matter of fact, you're _too_ cool…I mean…I mean what chance does a toy like _me_ have against a Buzz Lightyear action figure?" he looked towards the ground, defeated. "All I can do is _There's a snake in my boot!" _echoed the metallic device in his stuffed chest as he pulled his back string. "…why would Andy ever want to play with _me_, when he's got you?"_

_So, that was why: he had just thought he wasn't enough. That he couldn't stand the comparison with him. He had never been willingly mean, nor angry at him, he had just been…insecure. Just like him._

_He kept on. "I'm the one who should be strapped in that rocket." He turned around, lowering his head. He was giving up._

_And there was no way on earth he would have let him.  
He looked at the tool box above him with resolution: he would have saved him, at any cost._

"_Listen, Buzz. Forget about me. You should get outta here while you can." He turned around as he heard no response, and he was not there anymore. His surprised stare quickly turned into a dejected look, until- "Buzz? What are you doing? I thought you-"_

"_Come on, Sheriff. There's a kid over in that house who needs us. Now let's get you out of this thing!"_

"_Yes, sir!" he waved back at him, cheered up, and…grateful. After all he had put him through (accidentally trying to murder him being an example), he would have never really expected he would help him. And never in his life, would he have ever forgotten that gesture._

* * *

"Andy!"

He reached out for the zip, fumbling blindly through the darkness of the bag. _Desperately_.  
And he was promptly stopped.  
As he got a steady grip on his outstretched arm, Buzz pulled hard, making him stumble backwards toward him: bumping against his chest with his back, dangerously near his speaking buttons, the cowboy doll opened his lips as to protest, but they were immediately sealed by a secure hand pressing onto them.

"Don't be an _idiot!_" the space ranger reprimanded. "We have to wait till we're sure it's safe to move! Do you really want to get caught like _that_?"

"Mphh-mmmm-hmphmmmm!" he retorted angrily, squirming his body around to wriggle free from his hold. As a response, he tightened his grip onto him even harder.

"Now, listen to me. I can understand you're worried about Andy. I am, too. But you have to _calm_. _**Down**__!_"

And all of a sudden, he actually did, freezing right on the spot and letting his free arm drooping limp at his side.  
Taking it as a sign of collaboration, the toy freed his mouth from his hand, even though keeping the other one firm on his bent-backwards right arm.

"You understand."

"Huh?"

"You understand, now, do you?" he almost stated, dull, his tone undetectable.

He looked taken aback for a moment, not being able to look into his eyes making it even harder to figure out what he was implying: there used to be a time when he could easily detect whatever was crossing his mind just from a simple gesture, a single stare directed towards him, or a different inflection of his voice; but those moments belonged to a time and to a person that could not be considered as _present_ anymore. And quite frankly, he was starting to be tired of putting up with that. "…yes. Even if it seems you'd like otherwise, I _do_ understand. We've known each other for how long, twelve years? You're my best friend, Woody! I _know_ you!"  
_At least…I used to_.  
"You're worried, obviously so: every time Andy gets sick, or hurt, you relive Mr. Davis' illness, dreading someday such thing could happen to him as well. And you're blaming yourself for his accident, probably thinking that if you never let him go, you could've prevented him from getting injured. I _do_ know! But you have to understand you can't always look after him, he's turning into a _man_! He needs to learn how to take care of himself! And most of all, Woody, you need to come to terms with the fact that _you can't save everyone!_"

"You. Don't. Know. _**ANYTHING**_**!**"

Playing on his higher stature, he propelled his body up on its full height, tugging hard at his enclosed right wrist in the meanwhile. As a result, the both of them clashed onto the ground in opposite directions, respectively onwards and backwards.  
Getting back on his feet, he turned around in an instant: he approached him in two quick strides, taking a steady hold of his shoulders and then lifting him up, fiercely, his plastic fingertips grinding soundly onto their grey lacquer; their faces so close their noses could almost touch.  
He faced him with a stare he had never read on his face: it was…angry? Resentful? No. It was _furious_. It was _mad_. It was _wild_. Permeated with a passion so vigorous it left him at a complete loss for words.  
"You don't _know_ how it feels to watch someone you care about agonizing for _months_, knowing all you can do is having an idiotic smile stamped on your face! You don't _know_ how grievous it is falling asleep every goddamned night with a kid crying his heart out at your side because he misses his dad! You don't _know_ the sheer terror that overwhelms you when you find out that it is all _your_ fault the most important person in your life risked death because of a promise you've been so stupid not to keep! And most of all, Buzz, you don't know _me_. So don't you try and act like you're my _best friend_, since all you've done till now is keeping me away from mine!"

Once again, he felt his body being pushed violently backwards, and consequently skidding against the ground. He kept still as he watched with hurt, helpless eyes the cowboy doll making his way toward the zip, without so much of a single glance back.

He was right: he didn't know. And he probably never would have.  
Therefore, he was left with no other choice: the words escaped from his mouth so freely, impalpable, they flew away as a breath of rare air. Feeble, ephemeral words, that yet had the strength to hit them both with the fierceness of a hurricane.

"So long, partner."

He saw him halting for a brief, intense moment, as if paralyzed. His lips parted progressively as his breath got caught in his throat, waiting: slowly, he bowed his hatted head, curling his little pink hands around the side of the zip.  
Then, leaning his boot against the fabric wall, he quickly propelled himself up, and with a swift leap…

…he was gone.

* * *

He had been an idiot.  
A complete, utter idiot.  
Had he really thought that he could help him? That he could have brought him back to his usual self? That _he_ was enough?  
Yes, they had been friends. The best of friends, for more than a decade, and all the countless adventures they shared together, did nothing but consolidate their bond: so solid, and yet…so fragile.  
It was a truth that he had been always aware of, deep into his mind, that nonetheless he had always been afraid to express out loud: that way, he could still pretend it didn't exist. That it was not…_real_.  
But what for, now? It didn't make any sense to keep it secret. And besides, it didn't really matter anymore.  
They were done: Woody and Buzz, the cowboy and the spaceman. Definitely, incontrovertibly, _done_.

It was something that he would, nor could, actually, have never imagined: being apart from Woody, from a member so significant of what he considered as his family, was something so ludicrous and unimaginable that could not be regarded as anything more than inconceivable.  
Truth to be told, they hadn't exactly got along that easily the first time they met, as they constantly fought to get the better of each other: him, being an obnoxious, full of himself prig, and Woody, an overconfident, childish big head. Two very similar personalities, coming to think of it, that during the years proved to be a perfectly combined match: learning from each other, he quickly settled to be part of a team, as well as Woody stepped aside to share his role of leadership. Like a well-oiled mechanism, they knew how to work together in absolute synchrony, and their devotion, their perseverance, the care they had for one another, was what always kept them together, successfully motivating them to make it through every adversity.  
He had a friend in him, and never in his life had he ever doubted that.

But then, he had started to change, and within the span of a few months, he was not able to recognize him any longer.  
And no matter how subtle those changes were, no matter how many times he had told him 'everything is just fine': he was far a different person than the brave, passionate, caring sheriff he used to know and had learned to value.  
He had grown to realize, and now he had absolutely no doubt of, their friendship, Woody himself, started to fall apart, relentlessly, the very moment Andy got into his car on that day of late summer. And despite how painful it was, or how hard he had striven to save it from its doom, trying to understand, to be sympathetic, to show him he could rely on him and share his troubles, even though he had made it clear he had no intention to open up: he saw it crumbling around him noisily, painstakingly crashing on the ground, knowing all he could do was just stand in the middle and let the falling derbies scratching and wounding him.

And he had said goodbye. He had surrendered, and given him up.

That was, utterly, the very last thing he would have ever wanted to do. But what other choice did he have, after all? He didn't need him. He didn't _want_ him.  
Besides, since all he had done proved to be completely useless, doing nothing at all was the only option he was left with: therefore, letting the both of them go was, probably, the best choice for everyone.  
Maybe…maybe it was time for _him_ to move on, after all.

* * *

"Dammit" he seethed for the umpteenth time, as he entered another white, anonymous aisle. He had, honestly, no idea of how long he'd been wandering into that labirynthic tangle of blank walls, aisles, and rooms full of equipments he knew absolutely nothing about.  
He had heard Mrs. Davis telling Molly that Andy was supposed to be treated for a broken arm, so therefore, it would have been more logical just to wait for him to show up in the waiting room. Besides, even supposing he actually managed to figure out where he was, breaking into his room while being medicated was not exactly such a brilliant idea, after all.  
But reasoning seemed to have left his will a long time ago, and as soon as he had learned Andy was injured, no matter how irrational it could seem, he just knew he had to find him. He needed to _see_ him, to make sure he was okay with his own eyes.

Of course, that was not his first time in a hospital: being a skater since the age of fourteen, he had been previously treated for bruises, minor fractures and such. But there was a major difference, this time: he was not there with him. And most of all, he was not there _for_ him.  
He couldn't look after him: he couldn't keep his head cool whenever he caught a fever, or find his remote if he had difficulties to move, or gently waking him up when his sleep was troubled by a nightmare.  
He missed those moments, when even though he had no interest to play with him anymore, he could still take care of him, feeling useful in some way. Besides, when you live so close with someone for so many years, you tend to get attached to such 'small things': they stand for the world you belong to, for everything you're fond of.  
Losing-_parting_ from him, implied he had to let go of a significant part of his life, and that proved to be harder than he thought.

_You can't save everyone!_

Those words pierced through him like a poisoned dart. He _knew _Buzz was right: he had been all along. He couldn't always be there to look after him, despite how much he wanted to: he couldn't be so egotistical to let his own feelings overrule his need to find his own way in life.  
But then again...he didn't know. Of course, he wouldn't: he never let him. Sealing his past away into the deepest, darkest core of his soul, he had never allowed a single ray of light to filter through it, hoping somehow, somewhen, it would have just vanished. Even though, so far, he had never been able to get rid of it: Greg's departure had scarred him beyond every reasonable point, and even though life went on, as it did, there wouldn't be a single day passing by without him thinking about that moment of fourteen years ago, when a very shattered, inconsolable Andy, pleaded him for a very simple task: not to leave him.  
And that was exactly what he had done.

What if he had _died_ in that accident?

Could he have ever forgiven himself? Could he have ever _lived_ if something like that would have really happened?  
But it didn't, did it?  
...Although, it could have.  
He closed his eyes, bumping his head against the nearby wall in frustration. One thing was for sure: whichever the case, without Buzz's help, he would have never known.

_So long, partner.  
_

He could still hear his words thundering in his ears, as his teeth instantly gritted at their sound. He would have never expected something like that to happen. He would have never _wanted_ it to. But it did.  
And it was, in no uncertain terms, all his fault. Since that moment, every step he took forward had been a constant fight between the need to find Andy and check on his health, and the urge to turn around and get back to Buzz as soon as he could. He...

He stopped dead in his tracks.  
Without even noticing he had long ago resumed his walking, he had seen something with the corner of his eyes. He took a few, cautious step backwards, as he barely noticed, written in black, capital letters, the sign

**I.C.U.  
Intensive Care Unit**

hanging a few feet away from the imposing door he was standing in front of. A narrow, rectangular glass pane run at its right through its entire length, and now, he could perfectly see what was inside of the room: several, unknown white and grey machineries, all linked to a flat black monitor. Laying beside them, his hands unnaturally pale and his thin lips rigidly pursed together, there was…

"_**ANDY!**_"

* * *

**Author's Note:** First and foremost: **shall Andy live or die?** **Vote on my profile **to share your opinion! [Edit: since I can't display more than 1 poll at a time, this one will stay up till his fate is revealed. After that, the Woody-Andy / Woody-Buzz poll will come back!]

[Edit 2: For those who read the first version of this chapter, I changed the ending a bit. Sorry about that! :P]

[Edit 3: **Added a poll 3d option**: you can vote for both of them if you wish!]

Uh, I was wondering...do you guys read my author's notes? Just to know if I'm talking to myself all the timeXDD

Man, did I want to _finally_ focus entirely on Woody and Buzz. I love them, I swear I do! Now that you know a bit of Woody's past (at least of what I thought it could be, in the previous chapter), you can imagine why he snapped on him like that. If you want more, well…there will be more. That sort of "introduction" is, of course, taken from Toy Story 1 (and I made sure to listen to the dialogue and report it just as it is): not only cause I love how they used to be, and how they builded their relationship, but also because I wanted to portray how it's changing in this story: whichever path shall it lead to, you tell me! ;)

If you'd like to contact me, feel free to send me **e-mails, PMs, tweets** or whatever, of course! :3 And don't you forget to **REVIEW**: please! I work really hard on what I write, and it'd be nice to read your honest opinion, whether you liked what you read or not. *Draws a gun on Andy* Do that for the boy's sake! ù.ù XD

But. Now. Let's. Get. To...

**REVIEWS CORNER!**

**Blackwolf:** Gee...wasn't that clear? D: Haha, that's exaclty what I wanted you to believe, and I'm happy I 'got you' (in a good way, of course! ;D). See? No more 'mom and Molly' focus! I can tell you you're gonna find out if your guess about the link between Andy and Greg is right quite soon. Did you like his reaction? Broader introspection in the next chapter, of course, but yeah, I wanted him to snap from the beginning: he's impulsive and passionate, after all.**  
**I love the care you have for this story, always checking up on it, it makes me way beyond glad and happy and it motivates me a great deal. And, as I always tell you, never doubt I'm gonna update! ;)

I've got a very dramatic one-shot in mind (I'll publish it in "Moments" when I'm satisfied with how it's written :P), so, I hope I made you happy just as your reviews make me. I'm eager to read what you have to say about this chapter! And thanks, from the bottom of my heart, for your kind words.

**LNicol1990:** OMG you did? That's...exactly what my purpose was! XD I've been mean, I'm sorry. I'm really happy you liked Molly and Mrs. Davis' POVs, cause I felt a bit insecure about those. Plus, they never got that much relevance in the movies, so, seeing you find their reactions plausible is really satisfying!  
That's very right: he _does_ go catatonic, that's his exact reaction on Chapter4. I switched quickly between Buzz and him, so that's understandable it got a bit confusing: thanks for letting me notice, I appreciate that really much! And yes again, Andy's in a coma...till now, at least...*smiles wickedly* XD  
Thanks so much for your review, I really liked to read it!

**Misshumanoidtyphoon:** I updaaaaaated! Finally, see? Hope you liked this chapter as well! =33

**MarioChan:** Thank you so much, I hope you liked this one too! ^O^

**_Thank you, my beloved readers, for all the "alerts", the "favourites" and the reviews, cause lately, I'm getting a lot of those (of the first two, at least XD), and you have no idea how much it means to me._**

~Until next time!


	7. Chapter 6: I missed You

Check out and subscribe my **Youtube** account MisakiKyuuki for my **Toy Story tributes  
**and contact me via **PM**, gmail or **Twitter** (MisakiKyuuki as well) for anything about the story! ;)

And now...enjoy!

* * *

_~Thank you Danita (aka Misshumanoidtyphoon), and all my beloved reviewers, for always supporting me! :)_

* * *

**On the previous chapters**

_All Molly knew was that her father had died of cancer when she was only an infant. He looked a lot like her brother, actually, but she couldn't exactly recall Andy talking about him at all: he would always try to avoid or dismiss her questions._  
_Death: he would have never imagined it could be such a strong, meaningful word. He had learnt it was used to describe people who, for some reason, stopped breathing, and therefore, existing._  
_"Daddy..." he whispered among frantic hiccups. "Just promise" he finally said. "Promise me you're never going to leave me, Woody." He hugged him, tightly._  
_"I promise, Andy."_

_"You see, Mrs. Davis...his body is alive, but about his brain, we'll have to monitor him in the ICU to tell. The more we wait...the less chances are for him to wake up."_

_Reasoning seemed to have left his will a long time ago, and as soon as he had learned Andy was injured, no matter how irrational it could seem, he just knew he had to find him. He needed to see him, to make sure he was okay with his own eyes. Of course, that was not his first time in a hospital, but there was a major difference, this time: he was not there for him.  
Greg's departure had scarred him beyond every reasonable point, and even though life went on, there wouldn't be a single day passing by without him thinking about that moment of fourteen years ago, when a very shattered, inconsolable Andy, pleaded him for a very simple task: not to leave him.  
What if he had diedin that accident?_

_He stopped dead in his tracks. A glass pane run through the entire length of the door, and now, he could perfectly see what was inside of the room: laying beside some unknown machinaries, his hands unnaturally pale and his thin lips rigidly pursed together, there was…_

* * *

**DEPARTURE**

**Chapter 6  
**_I missed You_

"_Andy!" _

He snapped his eyes open in an instant, shutting them tight the second later as a sharp pain run through his head.  
After a few moments, he trusted himself enough to open them once again, slowly, and what appeared like a white-painted ceiling was the first thing meeting his eyes. Pinning on his elbows and wrists, he gradually propelled himself up to a sitting position, his ribs darting a few, breath-taking stabs at the motion.

_What in the world…?_

As the blurriness in his eyes seemed to fade, he finally allowed his sight to take his surroundings in: an old, dirty-white dresser stood in front of him, a few golden and silver trophies sitting on its top and a notice board behind them displaying a various array of postcards, tickets and papers of sorts. On his right, a political map of the world hung on the wall with several pins on its broad surface, each indicating a specific city. Blue shelves topped by plates, DVDs and books were at the other side of the door, while a desk messily arranged with books, a laptop and scattered papers stood in front of a window. A blue mat lay alone in the center of the wooden-tiled floor, an old TV -covered in stickers, as numerous objects in the room- and an electric guitar were placed on the corner of the room, framed by a great amount of posters placed in almost every part of starred blue wallpaper. There was no doubt: that was his room.  
And he had absolutely no idea what he was doing in there.

Feeling his mouth going dry, he instinctively reached for some water on his nightstand, but he found none. Tiredly, he rubbed his groggy eyes with the thumb and the index finger of his hand, sighing heavily in the meanwhile.  
He tried to recall his last memory, racking his brain for any insignificant detail that could lead him to an explanation whatsoever:

…

…

…

Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_.  
How in hell was that possible?

_Okay. Okay. Just calm down, Andy. Maybe you just hit your head really hard, somewhere…somewhen…_

Right. Where? When?  
Could it have been…at school? Was he supposed to be in school, anyway? How old was he? And for that matter, what year was it?  
A dulling, overwhelming feeling of heaviness started pounding and echoing in his head, as if his own body was trying to prevent him from formulating any coherent thought: the idea of getting up was, therefore, soon discarded.  
In that moment, he heard his door burst open:

"Andy!"

He had no time to realize whom the shriek squeal belonged to, as he felt his shoulders struck forcefully by an unknown weight, and consequently pushed backwards. His back arched upwards in pain when his head collided violently against the headboard of his bed.

"Ohgoshohgoshohgosh _oh gosh_! I-I'm so sorry! It's just- I didn't know you were- a-and when…when I saw you, it's, I-…_crap_!"

He opened an eyelid, cautiously, as the pain dulling his senses was slowly starting to subside. A fuchsia t-shirt was the first thing coming to his sight: raising his stare, he could see a couple of deep light blue irises reflecting his own, framed by a cascade of shiny golden locks. "M-Molly" he whispered with a dull, raspy voice, his throat soaring for the strain. "Molly" he repeated more evenly, after clearing it. He kept his eyes locked into hers, their lower brim quickly starting to wave with unshed tears.  
"I'm so sorry, I just-" she hiccupped. "I didn't wanna crush on you…but you were…and I-" she closed her eyes, sniffling hard as she titled her head sideways. He smiled genuinely at her proud attempt to cover her reaction, knowing it was just like her. His little, snotty, lovely sister.  
"It's ok" he said with a calm, soothing voice. "It's not like you've hurt me or anything…see?" he lifted himself back up as quickly as he could, his serene expression trying its best not to turn into a grimace as a stinging pang shot directly through the back of his head. "I'm okay" he reassured, wiping a tear rolling down her flushed cheek with the back of his forefinger.

She cracked an eye barely open, peeking at him uncertainly: the warmest of the smiles was crossing his features, his eyebrows were completely relaxed as the bright blue eyes beneath them, giving her a comforting, loving look.  
"Andy…" her eyelids dwindled once again, as new tears started to brim on their edges. He grazed her cheek, softly, trying his best to comfort his little sister: obviously, she was worried sick about him. And obviously…he hadn't the slightest clue the reason why.  
At the motion, she couldn't take it any longer: she lowered herself, carefully, encircling his neck with trembling arms and resting her head on its crook. He welcomed the girl cuddling her in his arms, slowly patting her back after he scooped her on his crossed legs. "It's okay, Molly. I'm okay" he kept saying.  
They lay there for quite a while, as he gently rocketed her back and forth while stroking her head: soon enough, her hiccups quieted down, and slowly, she pulled back enough so she could look directly into his eyes:

"Thanks" she smiled awkwardly.

"Anytime" he lightly bumped his forehead against hers, smiling. She reciprocated. "So, squirt" he giggled. "Wanna tell me what all that was about?"

She looked at him, uncertainly. "You…you don't remember?"

"Uh" he looked sideways, the corner of his mouth titling slightly downwards. "Not…not really, no" he chuckled nervously. Whatever she was talking about, it was nothing more than another, minuscule pebble swallowed by the black hole of his memory: a blank, dirty sheet of paper that once upon a time told a story, a past, a life written so meticulously, and now so easily annihilated by a swift of rubber. And all that was left, all he could cling onto, were just scattered debris of an innermost self he could barely reach, recognize. "To be honest, I…" he stopped, biting on his lower lip for he was carefully measuring the words to say: the last thing he wanted was to worry her sister more than she already was. "I just feel a little dizzy, that's all. I am…sort of confused…"

Truth to be told, he was utterly disorientated: the last thing he could recall was the moment he woke up, minutes earlier. He seemed to recognize himself, his belongings, and apparently, his loved ones. But apart from that, space and time seemed completely unknown entities, so expectable, and yet so unreachable. "I mean, it feels like I slept for days. I probably stayed up again till the small hours playing videogames, huh?" he smiled nervously, noticing the odd look the girl was giving him. Maybe, trying to be helpful, all he did was just messing everything up, even more than it already was. Ah, stupid, clueless Andy! Perhaps letting her do the talk was for the better, he resolved. "Ahem…care to fill me in?"

He looked sideways, towards the ground, for no particular reason. He knotted his eyebrows, his eyes glued to that particular spot behind the window. To that _empty_ spot. As weird as it was, he knew, he just _knew_…something was definitely not right.

"Slept for days…yeah" he could finally hear her answer, after what seemed like a long, heavy pause. She lowered her eyes, her hands wrenching in her lap, as the most beautiful, mature, saddest of the smiles crossed her features. He was at a complete loss for words, marveled at how little the girl looked like, and yet, how mature she could be.

"Molly?"

She kept there, her eyes refusing to falter from their position. Her hands stopped their frantic motion.

"Molly…it's all right. If you don't wanna talk about it, it's fine. Besides, whatever happened…now I'm here, and as you see, I'm fine. Just…please…make my little, pert, annoying sis come back. It really would help me" he squeezed her entwined hands with his own.

"You don't understand" she stated simply. "But it's not my job to make you, anyway."

He quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just glad you woke up" she said, completely ignoring his question. "Now you gotta get up, Andy…the others are waiting!"

_The…others?_

But he wasn't left with any time to further process her sentence, as she quickly jumped off the bed: taking a steady hold of his wrist with a swift motion, she started to pull as hard as she could, her cold little hands rubbing against his soft warm skin. "What the-?" he stumbled onwards, and struggled to keep his balance as the little teen was dragging him out at top speed.

"Hey…hey! Stop it! What's wrong with you? Where are we going?" he screeched out confusedly through the silent staircase. "Molly!"

He looked at her, completely and utterly puzzled, as she opened the front door of his home: a bright, dazzling, blinding yellowish light encircled their figures entirely, forcing him to cover his eyes with a forearm.

"_Molly!_" he shrieked in panic, feeling her grip loosening up, and soon after, vanishing completely. He forced his eyes to search through the shining glow, the veins in his bulbs swelling and pounding. _"Molly!"_ he repeated, desperately reaching and fumbling into the emptiness.

He flinched in fear as an unknown, strong force pressed on the back of his neck, while another one enclosed his shoulder, together pressing him against a vigorous, sturdy…chest? "Ah…! Let me go!" he forced a fist blindly onwards, his jaw set and his teeth grinding.

"Son…"

His hand stopped still in midair, his eyes wide open, his chest wildly pounding in his ribcage.

It couldn't…it couldn't be.

_**It can't be!**_

"D...d…dd…" he stuttered, his knees wobbly all of a sudden.

"Son…it really is you, then…God, I'm so happy you're okay…" he inhaled deeply, then planted a delicate kiss on his soft hair.

"_Ddd…dddd…_" he whimpered, his voice refusing to follow his lead as a tight knot took possession of his throat.

"It's okay, spongy head" he smiled affectionately, tightening the grip on the boy as he could feel his body buckle under its own weight.

"_Dad…_" he finally whispered, uncertainly, like a kid uttering an unknown word. Unknown, indeed… "Dad" he repeated more evenly, his voice rich of so many emotions his lips trembled in the attempt to hold them down.

He rested his head on the man's shoulder, his head spinning wildly. His arms clenched around his back instinctively, compulsive, his fingertips sinking deeply into the soft fabric of his shirt.

"I missed you so much" he gushed, his saliva so viscous it made talking a task even harder. He couldn't stop crying. So hard, and so loudly, he was utterly screaming, his jaw soaring for a strain he had absolutely no control over. All he knew, all he could think of, was to cling onto the man as hard as he could. There was a voice inside of him, a raw, pure instinct, that demanded- _urged_ not to let him go. Ever. And so he did, holding him so close, and so tight, that for a moment he worried it could be sucking the very air out of his lungs. But he soon realized, so was he doing. His _father_. His _daddy_. He could feel the spicy, musky scent emanating from his neck. The warmness of his strong hands. The tickle of his scanty beard. The soothing sound of his regular heartbeat, pounding gently against his ear.  
But…why? Why was he so upset, anyway? Why was he crying and shaking so hard, uncontrollably? Why had he missed the man so much, like the blood in his veins, or the oxygen in his throat?

"We did, too" a female, adult voice spoke from behind.

He dared to crook his head sideways, slowly, making sure he could keep a secure grip onto the elder, and turned towards the familiar voice.

"Mom!" he beamed. He now realized the light they were surrounded from had long ago vanished, and now, he could perfectly see: they were standing in the middle of their front yard, in the most beautiful, glorious sunny day he had ever seen. "Molly!" He moved a hurried step backwards, his body reaching out towards them, but he stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned again towards his dad, that now he could clearly see for what seemed the first time in a long, long time: his blonde hair seemed visibly lighter than his, under the sunlight, captivating every single ray on its bushy surface. And, he noticed, it was some inches shorter: somehow, he knew the reason was _I have no intention of looking like a goof, anachronistic hipster, waiting for my hair to fall off all at once._  
Although, he knew for sure he had it even longer, when he was about his age. Maybe that was it: he really feared aging -childishly, he resolved, and smiled amused at the thought- and therefore, opted for a shorter, 'cooler' messy style, courtesy of the gel he had apparently so meticulously applied on his mane.

His light beard successfully set his jaw off, neatly running at its sides and perfectly framing his thin lips. His nose was straight, but slightly rounded up at the bottom; he had full, light eyebrows, and beneath those, a pair of deep, light sapphire irises blending in emerald glowed with a love and fondness only a parent could bestow.  
He was marveled, astonished, and above all, in absolute owe: it was as if he was looking at the man for the very first time, and he strained to take in every single, insignificant, yet so precious detail. He strived to treasure every sensation, every scent, every image his senses allowed him to perceive: he was afraid that, if he didn't, everything would have just…vanished. And he felt he had waited far too long for that moment to just let it go like that…it was then that the reason why he had turned back in the first place sunk back in.

The adult smiled over his troubled face. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere" he reassured. But such words didn't seem to convince him, as he stayed there, unmoving.

_Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere._

He held his breath for what seemed like a thousand seconds. Those words rumbled in his ears like a thunder during a stormy night: he had heard them before. And whatever the circumstances he was sure, dead set sure, he did not like the consequences. At all.

"This time, it's for real, Andrew. I wouldn't lie to you. Come on."

He didn't know what exactly happened after that, but for reasons he had a hard time figuring out, there he was…surrounded by his family, the three of them hugging him lovingly, Buster barking and hopping happily around them. His whole family.  
At this point, he couldn't care how, or why: being there was just all that mattered. Everything was just so, _so_ darn perfect. It felt so _right_.  
For the first time in many, many years, he felt…complete. _Happy_.

And he would have done anything to stay in that little piece of paradise…for the rest of eternity.

* * *

In a matter of seconds, he quickly jumped down from the doorknob he was clinging onto, landing inside of the room as the solid door behind him closed mechanically. He scanned it swiftly with his big chocolate eyes, and no more than two yards away, slightly on his left in front of him, there he was: Andy.  
He stood there for what seemed like quite a few minutes, his breath caught in his throat, his limps completely frozen at his sides. He did not dare flinch the slightest millimeter; the glossy, painted brown bulbs on his face permeated with so many, wild, conflicting emotions they made his lower lip wobble mercilessly.

After many, vain attempts, he finally managed the strength to take an uncertain, cautious step forward. The moment later, his left leg swung ahead of his right one in the most natural of the movements. Automatically, his right booth pressed onto the ground to move once again. And again. And again.  
In a matter of seconds -_instants_- he had reached his bed.  
Easily, he climbed the cold metal bars supporting the stiff, uncomfortable spring mattress. For it seemed well into the night, the feeble light of a small bedside lamp was the only thing illuminating the room, its dark, sunglow rays reflecting on lineaments he so-well knew.

Most of his slim, toned body was covered by a blanket in a light shade of grey, which run up to part of his chest. His eyes snapped open in pure terror: ghostly, thick bandages covered the majority of his naked thorax, as well as the part of his left arm not hidden by the sheets he was laying under. His right forearm was resting gently on his stomach, an hefty blue cast -ironically, the boy's favourite colour- covering it from the elbow to part of his palm.  
Cornering carefully the right side of his body -for he was afraid to hurt him at the slightest touch-, he reached the crook of his neck so he could look directly at his face: his skin so pale, his eyes shut so close, as two small tubes linked a machinery to his nostrils.  
If he had had a beating heart, it would have stopped its rhythm right there and then.

His mind started to spin, fiercely, and if not due to the adrenaline-like surge his body seemed to be prey of, he was sure as hell he would have passed away that very instant.  
But he didn't. And he couldn't: an imperceptible, yet so clear motion behind him was all he needed to regain -at least, partly- his self-control. He snapped his head backwards, and, much to his pure, ecstatic relief, he could ascertain that, yes: he was breathing. So subtly, so painstakingly slowly his chest seemed almost immobile. But it wasn't.  
He was _alive._

Alive, yes. But that didn't necessarily imply he was _okay_. Of course, he wasn't: the moment he saw his figure through the pane, mom's claims about his conditions shattered in an indifferent cluster of lies.  
As his gaze drifted onwards, the sight did nothing but turn that excruciating predicament into a devastating nightmare: most of his head was covered by the same, merciless bandages he had seen moments before, with just a slight, tremendous difference. He took a trembling step backwards, as if his body started to act on his own will, dashing away from the dreadful vision: blood.  
A vermillion, tiny round blotch, right behind his ear.

His hands run on his face without him even noticing, the fingers distant from one another, trying to hide him from a vision he yet couldn't avert his gaze from. His mouth, ajar, resonated with an indistinct, dull, dark, dirty sound, almost as if something was preventing him from speaking.  
A lament.

_Aaaa…aaaahhh!_

He cursed himself mentally in ways he wasn't even aware to know.  
It had been nearly four and a half months since the last time he saw him. He had waited, he had hoped, he had _craved_ for that moment for so, _oh_, so long…and now, there he was: regretting that wish more than anything in his life. He didn't want to see him. _Not like that_.  
It was his fault.  
If he hadn't been so stupid to leave him in the first place, _any _of that would have ever happened: he would have done anything not to let him go out, alone in the night. He would have done anything to hold him back when the car was approaching. He would have done anything to push him out of the way: even if that meant sacrificing his own life, a risk he was more than willing to take. He would have _protected_ him, like it was supposed to be. If he only had known.  
It was all his fault.  
If he had been mature enough to deal with the consequences of his own choices, instead of moping around like the _idiot_ he was, maybe- no, _certainly_, his desire to see him once again wouldn't have made the accident happen, and he would've been safe and sound at this point.  
It was all. _His_. _**Fault!**_

And there he was: _Greg_.  
Laying two inches away from him, in the same bed, in the same position. With the exact same, indecipherable, almost mystical expression. With the exact same…_  
Fate_.

He straightened up all of a sudden, blinking repeatedly. He was gone.

He approached the boy's face, finally, measuring carefully the distance as he leaned towards him. He brushed some stray locks aside from his closed eyelids, his gentle caress more soft and delicate than the touch of a feather. He looked like one of those beautiful porcelain dolls, created just to be admired from afar: the slightest touch, and they'll fall apart into pieces.  
His forehead was so cold, and yet so soft. His lips seemed so rigid, and at the same time, so relaxed, almost if he was smiling.  
His eyes shut so tight and his expression so ethereal, though somehow…_happy_.

"Andy" he whispered, ever so feebly. He wasn't expecting any answer.  
He had long ago comprehended that, whatever the reason, he wasn't going to wake up.

"_Andy_" he repeated, his voice broken by the tears that he couldn't shed: bending his knees, he lowered himself even more towards him. He lifted his arms, and delicately, he positioned them on the sides of his jaw. He rested his cheek on his own, his hat shifting slightly upwards at the motion.  
He closed his eyes, tight, his eyebrows knotted in resignation and dismay.

"I'm sorry" he whispered. "I am so sorry."

His knees kept sinking down, slowly drawing him to a knelt position, his upper limbs refusing to let go of the boy's face. His rigid, rosy cheek pressed even further into his soft ivory skin; a sterile odor of anonymity mixed with his usual scent flooded his vinyl nostrils, as the quite hum of the impassive machinaries echoed in the background of his thoughts:

"I should have never let you go."

* * *

**POLL: shall Andy live or die?  
**_Vote on my __profile__!_

* * *

**Author's note: **[Preliminary remarks: I'm sorry for the slight cursing in this chapter, though it's a matter of just a couple of "hell"s (three counting this XD).  
That's easily explained: I would _never_ let the characters openly curse or being vulgar (that would make them out of character), but I felt that, at this point of the story, saying "drat", "bummer" or other Ned Flanders-like swear words would have dragged me to the exact problem I was trying to avoid.  
To say it better: Andy, and especially Woody, are now facing circumstances that require a different, more serious register. And that implies, in my opinion, _a couple_ (no more than that) of stronger words here and there.]

Do your daily good deed,  
and make an author happy today:**  
Don't forget to** **REVIEW!**

Sweet mother of Jesus. This was supposed to be just one chapter, with the previous one and the next one. I guess you'll never see the end of this! XD  
I don't like to break the chapters like this, but besides, it doesn't really depend on me: it's absolutely not my intention to drag this stalemate on more than it's due, it's just that, the more I write, the more ideas come out, and I can't really help it.

Anyway. Happy to see Andy again, somehow. I'm building something so dark around the happy and easygoing kid we see in the movies...how twisted and cruel am I? XD  
I missed Buzz in this chapter :( Gee, I didn't even mention him D: Here, there you go buddy. He is coming back in the next one (Buzz/Andy/Woody friendship triangle FTW! *_*), and I _really_ hope you're finally going to know what's Andy's destiny. And the consequences, of course.

Oh, about Woody. It's making me crazy thinking about how to portray his character in this story: he's changing, he's facing situations _far_ more complicated that any of the movies, more than anyone else in this story, and it's really hard to keep him on character despite all of this. I am trying my very best in doing so, and I hope I'm succeding. If not, _please_, let me know!

Good, enough said.

**REVIEWS CORNER!**

**Bloody Phantom:** Good choices, thanks for sharing your opinion! ;)

**LNicol1990:** I'm sorry it got confused, but I'm also glad you're making me notice. I really appreciate all your suggestions, and when I'll finally make up my mind to revise the previous chapters (I'm afreaid to see how many of those there are. But I _will_ correct them, at some point XD) I'll make sure to check everything you said out. Again, thank you!  
That being said: the actions are really quick, and I wanted to give the both of them the right amount of space to show both their reactions and POV at the same time. That is why I shift so much between them, then again, I'm sorry it's not completely clear who does what.  
About Woody, I broke that sentence ("He...") on purpose, so you wouldn't really know _why_ he wanted to get back to him, and could only guess. But yeah, the idea was that he wanted at least try to talk to him: he _is_ resentful after all...but who knows what would haveve happened =P (Truth to be said, he actually wanted to stab him with a band aid u.u). What is curious is that, if you noticed, Andy is somehow always getting in the way between them: when Woody wanted to open up in Chapter 3 (at the window), when Buzz started to think that "maybe he was enough" later in that chapter and they find out about the accident...

Anyway, thanks for the wishes! Hope you liked this chapter as well, I really enjoy reading your reviews! :D

**Misshumanoidtyphoon:** Thanks so much! Well, Greg didn't exactly die in an accident (in Chapter 4, Molly's reasoning revealed he died of cancer), but that's the point: Buzz had enough of Woody's changing behaviour, and he had enough of him judging without knowing. That was the part I enjoyed writing the most, so thank you so, so much for your review! Can't wait to read another one! :3

**Blackwolf:** Oh. My. Goodness! What a review! I loved every single part of it, and I don't have words to describe how very much I appreciated the accuracy you put in it. That being said, let me answer you properly.

I know my sentences can be tough to read sometimes: I guess it's sort of my style to write so...let's say, inflatedly. I quickly read some of the previous chapter, and yes, I can see what you're talking about now, so thank you a billion times for letting me know: the writer's point of view can differ from the reader's, and sometimes I tend to forget it =P Being my first story, I think it's just a matter of practice, but should you notice any of similar inaccuracies, I would really love to revise on what I've written. Sooner or later I'll have to do that on Departure's previous chapters, anyway.  
I agree with you with the 'profanity' issue. I would _never _let them curse, because I think as well, despite how mature they can be, they're still toys: that kind of language would result in them being out of character. I reread the dialogues, and other than "idiot" (which Woody uses several times in Toy Story 1, and that's the only reason why I let Buzz say that) and "dammit", I haven't seen any other form of cursing, maybe I haven't noticed the ones you're talking about? If you tell me what other words seem somehow inappropriate, I'd be sure to check them up.  
About this chapter, I already explained why I openly did so. If you disagree with this choice, I'd be happy to talk about it! ;)

About Woody's reaction, I'm glad to hear you think it's appropriate. What I'm trying to portray is a changing Woody, going through all these events keeping both the sides of his personality: he snaps, he acts all of a sudden, because he is impulsive and childish, but he's also mature enough to question his actions later on.  
Memories from the past are most certainly not over with Chapter 5, so don't you worry about that ;)  
Do you remember what I told you in the PM? Well, that will actually apply to the next chapter (it should have been this one, but as I said, things are changing constantly!)

You made some really, really interesting considerations and suggestions, and I'll be sure to take them in account. I supposed I knew what was going to happen, but...well, the whole story proved me wrong. I never expected to get to this point, and I'm glad about it.

I'll be waiting impatiently for another review of yours!


	8. Chapter 7: Wherever You will Go

**Preliminary remarks (please ****read****):** I've _canceled_ the _last sentence_ in the previous chapter: _it never happened_.

It really, _really _bothers me to modify something I've already published (and I never did such thing, before), but this time I couldn't really help it. I'm sorry about that, though it's just the very last line.

Sorry I kept you waiting so much time for this chapter!

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_Dedicated to my dear friend J-ni. I have no words to describe just how much your friendship means to me!_

* * *

**On the previous chapters**

_"Even if it seems you'd like otherwise, I do understand. We've known each other for how long, twelve years? You're my best friend, Woody! I know you!"_

_H__e was left with no other choice: the words escaped from his mouth so freely, impalpable, they flew away as a breath of rare air. Feeble, ephemeral words, that yet had the strength to hit them both with the fierceness of a hurricane._

_"So long, partner."_

_Slowly, he bowed his hatted head, curling his little pink hands around the side of the zip.__Then, leaning his boot against the fabric wall, he quickly propelled himself up, and with a swift leap, he was gone._

_There was no doubt: that was his room. And he had absolutely no idea what he was doing in there._  
_He tried to recall his last memory, racking his brain for any insignificant detail that could lead him to an explanation whatsoever: nothing. Absolutely nothing._

_"You don't understand" she stated simply. "But it's not my job to make you, anyway."_

_His hand stopped still in midair, his eyes wide open, his chest wildly pounding in his ribcage._

_It couldn't be. "Dad..."_  
_ At this point, he couldn't care how, or why: being there was just all that mattered. Everything was just so, so darn perfect. It felt so right._  
_For the first time in many, many years, he felt…complete. Happy._

_And he would have done anything to stay in that little piece of paradise…for the rest of eternity._

* * *

**DEPARTURE**

**Chapter 7**_  
Wherever You will Go_

"You're slow, man!"

"What?" he shrieked in disbelief.

A light, quiet breeze gently brushed his long hair, his check blue shirt waving elegantly under its motion. He moved some stray locks aside from his brow, bringing an arm over his eyes as a wandering sunbeam blinded his visual: he raised his stare over the shining, radiant baby-blue sky blending with little, puffy white clouds, and he found himself completely and utterly mesmerized by its breathtaking beauty.  
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he took in the distinct, strong scent of dewed grass, his nostrils savuoring at the same time the sweet scent of blossoming daisies. He heard the brisk, lively chirping of nearby sparrows waking the world from its sleep, and out of the corner of his eyes he caught a little squirrel hurrying his way up a tree, seeking for fresh acorns to store in his den.  
Never before he had seen anything equally as marvelous, and he basked pleasurably in that heartwarming feeling of freedom and blithesomeness.

"Yup yup. Gettin' older dear brother, aren't we?" the girl mocked, turning backwards and titling forth in his direction on the tip of her toes. Then, she stuck her tongue out and waved her fingers on the sides of her head: "You're slooow! You're slooow! Haha!" she ended her tease in a singsong voice.  
His features relaxed spontaneously in front of such view, and he couldn't help the genuine smile his lips curved into: it was so nice to watch his sister playing like that, and as weird as it was, having the opportunity to witness something so ordinary as a little girl enjoying her time with her family, felt somehow...precious. _Rare_. A moment he had to enjoy and treasure in every little, single facet, because it might have never come back.

…could it?

"…and even Buster got me before you!"

He blinked confusedly a couple of times, then he looked toward the girl: she had a mischievous, defiant grin stamped on her face. He smiled as well.

"Duuh! He's a one-year-old puppy _dog_, he's supposed to be faster! And wait, what did you just call me?"

"Told you so: you're slow!"

"Ahhh you little brat! Let me get you!"

He leapt forward to her, but, to his great misfortune, she had foreseen such move and bounced back just the distance she needed to avoid his grasp: as a result, dangerously losing his balance, he staggered on his left leg for a few, hilarious moments as he waved his arms around in the vain attempt to regain some stability, making the entire scene so much more enjoyable before her eyes. Of course his inevitable destiny was to end up sampling some of the delicious, fresh mould of his yard.  
He raised his face, and wide, brownish soils of mud were now littering it ungraciously. When a big piece slowly slid down his face, falling off from his chin, he snapped some more away from his eyes with an abrupt twitch of his hand, snorting as he finally revealed a very, _very_ crossed scowl.

She cracked.

"Hahah...hahahahahahahah! You're...hahahahah...you're an idiot, Andy!" she was laughing so noisily, and so hard, she had to bend double to hold her stomach.

That was an utter declaration of war.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk" he smiled evilly once he had recomposed himself, shaking his head from side to side. "You young, naïve lady…it's such a pity, really."

"Wha…what do you mean?" caught off guard, she took an unconscious step backwards, a little trickle of cold sweat sliding from her temple.

His grin broadened. "I mean what I said, of course."

He started pacing slowly but surely toward her, and out of instinct, the more he proceeded, the more she backed off.

"Y-you're just bluffing. You know you are powerless against me!"

"I am…oh, aren't I?" he chortled.

"Damn sure you are!" she retorted, an uneasy feeling of fear -of _sheer terror_, actually- slowly paralyzing her spine. She knew he was plotting something. And she knew she was not going to like it.

"Then why are you…_escaping_?"

"_Eek!_"

She wasn't left with any time to react: in a matter of seconds he was above her, pinning her on the ground. She was trapped!

"If y-you do that…I…I am…"

"Ohh, what are you going to do?" He looked at her sadistically, with a glint in his eyes that didn't leave space for misunderstandings. "And now…fear…my…WRAAAAATHHHH!"

"Hahahahahah…sto…stop it you jerk!" she squirmed on the ground wildly, her cheeks turning beetle red as he mercilessly started to tickle her whole body: that evil _knew_ that was her weak point, and he hadn't had any hesitation to take advantage of it. "Pwah…hahah…hahahahahahahahah! Andy! It tickles! It-ha…Ih…d…dah…dahah…DAAAAAAAAAD! Help mee!" she whined.

"How dare you vex my little princess!" a low voice came from behind. "You villain! I shall punish you in the name of my wife Queen Elisabeth Davis! Aaaaaahhh!"

"NonononononoNO!" he rolled aside just in time to avoid 188 gracious pounds of _fatherness_ squashing his body into pulp. As a result, the 'poor' man hit the ground face-first just like he did a few minutes before.

"Ouch" he moaned, his voice markedly nasal. "That hurt!"

"You're the one who decided to have a relationship with the grass, daddy. You shouldn't be complaining" he snickered. "Is it a good kisser, at least?"

"Hmmm. Not so sure. Why don't _you_ tell me?"

He grabbed his ankle and pulled hard, so that he inevitably slipped on the ground as well. He dragged the teen toward him, then, he easily flipped him over, brushing his son's face against the grass blades.

"Ahhh-hmphhh! Hmmmmph!"

"Aaaww, teaching my little kid to love nature. What a great father I am!"

"Greeg! Will you stop torturing our son?" his wife giggled, enjoying the whole scene.

"I'm not torturing anyone! I'm teaching here!" he complained.

"I am your Queen, now, obey!"

"Oh…he _will_!" Using that moment of distraction he turned over once again, and with a swift twitch of his leg, he launched his dad onward, getting free from his looming body.

"The heck you're gonna get away with that!" he retorted as soon as he got back to his feet.

They carried on their fight for what seemed like hours under the amused look of the Davis girls, as the shining sun cast its benevolent look over the whole family, in a morning that…didn't seem willing ever to end.

* * *

_"You. Don't. Know. ANYTHING!"_

He exhaled deeply from his nostrils, slumping his shoulders over in resignation.

"Damn it, Woody…" he whispered to himself, embittered.  
He threw himself backwards, bumping and sliding down his back against the sports bag's fabric, his stare shifting upwards. The zip was still there, untainted since the moment the cowboy opened it to get out -to _escape_, his mind corrected- hours earlier.

His hurt, troubled cerulean eyes glued once again to that very spot. It was stupid, it was useless, and most of all, it was masochistically painful. But there was nothing he could really do about it: that spot stood for the last connection with him he had left, and the more he kept staring, the more the concreteness of said thought sunk deeper in. And he was _scared_.

Scared of the truthfulness of their words. Scared that could have been the last time he ever saw him.  
Scared of a future without Woody.  
He was not prepared for such an eventuality: despite himself he knew, somehow, someday, he would have had to say goodbye to _Andy_. He had known all along, and no matter how such separation had been far, _far_ more painful than he could ever imagine -Woody was the one who had suffered the most, but that didn't mean he had been the _only_ one-, he had resigned himself a long time ago.  
On the contrary, the end of his friendship with the cowboy had been an utter bolt out of the blue: in just a few minutes, he had turned from his smug, confident pal who mocked him for not being able to stand in a car truck, to a completely, unrecognizable stranger that showered him mercilessly with unfair, spiteful words.  
And a stranger was what, in all likelihood, he looked like in the cowboy's eyes.

A stranger, who…

_You don't __know__ how it feels to watch someone you care about agonizing for __months__, knowing all you can do is having an idiotic smile stamped on your face!_

…knew absolutely nothing about Mr. Davis' illness. Nor about the man himself, for that matter.

He had left his family when Andy was very young, and his sister just a baby. It seemed he was affected from a very acute disease, something so grave that couldn't be cured, but he knew nothing more since anyone in the Davis household rarely talked about him, that including the only member of their group who had known the man personally: Woody.  
Whenever asked why Andy was the only kid without a male adult to pick him up from school, or who was the man they saw in some family pictures, an unconscious, longing expression would always cloud his features, and with a sad smile on his face he would usually proceed to describe what great of a father and husband he was, and nonetheless his many qualities as an honest, hard working man.

But he always stopped, at some point, his relaxed attitude clashing against the stiffness his limbs betrayed: cutting the conversation with a simple '_I didn't know him that well, so I can't really tell_' he would inevitably dismiss -he would inevitably _prevent_- any further question.  
And he knew there was more, so much more behind those words, behind those affected eyes of his; an entire, inscrutable world concealed within the most deep, unreachable, _darkest_ part of himself. And no, that was never just a simple end of the conversation: it was _him_ who was shutting himself out from that past he had dared to remember, trying his best to keep composed as he observed its surface, yearning and dreading at the same time to dive into it.

A stranger, who…

_You don't __know__ how grievous it is falling asleep every goddamned night with a kid crying his heart out at your side because he misses his dad!_

…didn't know how Mr. Davis' departure had affected either him or the young Andy.

Besides, how could he? Woody obviously knew the man far more than he liked to show, and so did Andy. But for reasons beyond his ken, they had never showed any manifest interest to talk about him, let alone about his death or the way it affected them.  
Clearly, whatever happened, the wound was still too fresh to expose, and it was out of the great respect he harbored for Woody and for his feelings that he just stopped asking, hoping somewhen, someday, he would have trusted him, his _best friend_, enough to open up. And so, he just kept there. Waiting.  
He still was.

A stranger, who…

_You don't know the sheer terror that overwhelms you when you find out that it is all your fault the most important person in your life risked death because of a promise you've been so stupid not to keep!_

…could have never, _ever_ known how deep Woody and Andy's bond was.

Andy was just a kid the first time they met -he could still remember it was a week before his actual birthday, in his old home, and he found himself smiling at the memory-, so even assuming Woody had been with him since the moment he was born, he couldn't have possibly known him for more than 5, 6 years at the most. Besides, _Woody's Roundup _run during the 50's along with its merchandize, so it was only logical to assume he had had at least one more owner apart from him.

He never understood why Woody had always been reluctant to talk about his past, about his life before Andy and even during his first years with the boy, therefore, he had never truly comprehended how the they could have built a tie so strong in just a few years.  
Thinking about it, it was absolutely amazing how the two of them always managed find their way back together. They were like the two halves of a magnet: no matter how hard you try, you can't possibly break them apart. One way or another, they _will_ get back being one.  
It was an attitude that, however admirable, he had never seen in any other toy, and besides, it wasn't really something so expectable: there was like a secret, mysterious force, a deep and unreachable past that bonded them and kept them together, a connection so strong and indissoluble it made him…_envious_.

_You don't know me. So don't you try and act like you're my best friend, since all you've done till now is keeping me away from mine!_

He ran a hand over his eyebrows, frustrated: he didn't know what to think anymore, and most of all, he didn't know what to _do_ anymore. He had said goodbye. _They_ had said goodbye.  
Now Woody would've probably already reached Andy, and there was no chance he was going to leave him ever again. And it was all thanks to him: hadn't it been for him, they would have never gotten into Mrs. Davis car, and the two of them would have never gotten back…together? Who was he kidding?  
_Well__…_not so far at least, he conceded.  
"Yeah" he said to himself, a self-mocking smile bending the corner of his mouth. "I'm a very good…friend."  
From that moment on, Woody would have kept taking care of him, like he always did. He would have been by his side, like he always wanted to. He would have been _happy_.  
It was for the best, after all.  
And it hurt like a living _hell_.

"Mrs. Davis?"

An unknown voice made him snap back to reality. Approaching the zip, he flicked his helmet open and cautiously peeked through its crack.

"I need to talk to you" he could now see the voice belonged to a young man, presumably a doctor, approaching Andy's mom. She casted a quick glance toward him: dreading he'd been caught, he freezed into his inanimate position, loosing his balance and sliding back inside as he did so. Soon enough, though, he understood her purpose: she just wanted to use the sports bag as some sort of cushion for a slumbering Molly. Now conveniently covered by her blonde curls, he quickly jumped out of his cache, and guardedly started following the two adults.

"You see, Mrs. Davis" the man paused for a moment, casting a quick glance over the numerous papers he held in his hand. "When the car hit your son, the impact his head made to the ground was violent. That provoked a major internal bleeding, which we tried our best to stop as soon as he was transported to the hospital."

His eyebrows raised in pure, utter disbelief.

"Unfortunately, it was too late to prevent an hemorrhagic shock."

He stood still, as the man kept talking, his mind unable -_unwilling_- to form any coherent thought.

"Wha-…what does that mean?" he heard the woman stammering confusedly.

The doctor sighed heavily, and the world around him stopped: he didn't blink. He didn't breathe. He didn't move.

Silent seconds deafened his ears, each single one blending into the heaviness of hours.

"It means he's diagnosed with a severe form of TBI. Traumatic Brain Injury."

"Is...is he alive?"

_You don't know how it feels to watch someone you care about agonizing for months, knowing all you can do is having an idiotic smile stamped on your face!_

"I don't know, ma'am. The more we wait...the less chances are for him to wake up."

He watched helpless as the poor woman collapsed on the ground, her face buried deeply in her hands.  
The moment the man had finished his sentence, his body started to move forward, as if animated by its own will: he couldn't breathe, nor think. He just ran.  
He had to reach them both.  
He _had_ to.

* * *

"Hmph…here, little princess" the man finally said, addressing to his daughter. "Daddy got tired of dealing with this beast."

"Hey!"

"Wanna go to the tree house and play with your toys?"

"For real?" she beamed.

"Sure thing! May I have the honor to escort thee, oh lovely young lady? I'll be thine devoted steed!" he bowed courteously.

"Yayy!" she jumped up to him, and he welcomed her up on his broad shoulders. "Let's go then! Yeee haw!"  
_  
The…the tree…house?_

He followed their steps with his eyes, his gaze wandering toward the right side of his home: his mom's roses…the porch…the leafy, mighty oak tree.  
He started pacing toward it, slowly, his eyes anchored to its broad, leafy branches with no chance to divert, as if under some sort of spell. He halted a dozen inches before it, observing a handmade spoke and rope ladder that hung from its top and ran all over the trunk's height.  
He reached out a tentative hand, extending his fingers gradually until he touched its robust wood, his fingertips brushing and sinking into its lined grooves.  
…it wasn't the first time he did such thing.

_There you go, boy! Fastened up to the house so you can use it safely anytime you want, suits your weight but it's too light for grown-ups to climb to. And, you can take it away anytime you want if you don't wanna be bothered!_

_So no one can get in unless I want 'em to?_

_Yuup. Well, no one but me of course, I'm the one who made up the whole thing after all._

_Uh? And why is dat?_

_Hmm, let's put it this way: I'm your tree house guardian. I'll make sure no one ever gets in and I'll shelter you from any intruders. How does that sound, spongy head?_

_Gwwweat! Thanks so much, daddy!_

He jerked his hand away, as if electrified.  
He swallowed hard, and after some further hesitation, he finally got a grip on the nearest pin, starting to climb up.

"Well, well, well. Look who's back with the tail between his legs" his dad smiled.

"All the seats to the tea party are taken, as you see. If you want one, you gotta pay! Cash's good, thanks!"

He kept staring at them, a blank look depicted all over his face: he was almost positive he had never entered the room before. Then again, he couldn't explain himself why it felt so darn familiar.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty! I'm talking to you! Ah, Dr. Porkchop, I'm sorry. My brother has no manners at all."

His heart skipped a beat.  
All of a sudden, he found himself torn between the irrational urge to run away as fast as he could, and the visceral, desperate need to get inside.

"Wha-" his voice choked. He swallowed uneasily, then he tried again. "What did you just…say?"

"Huh? That you're a rude-" she stopped mid-sentence, rethinking her answer. "Hey, you're not offended, are you? Cause I wasn't-"

"No, I'm not" he replied quickly, his tone surprisingly placid. "I was talking about…I mean-" he snorted, betraying some of his tension. "Who were you talking to?"

"Eh?" she blinked puzzled a few times before she understood his question. "Oh, of course! Dr. Porkchop! Sorry for ignoring you all, my guests!"  
He made his way inside, uncertainly, his head shifting from side to side as he observed his surroundings for what seemed, oddly, both like the first and the umpteenth time. And he saw them: Mr. Porkchop. Barbie. Rex. The soldiers. Jessie. Slinky. Wheezy. The Potato Heads. Bullseye. Bo Peep. The Pizza Planet's Aliens…  
All of his and Molly's toys were there.

…_his_?

He reached an hand out toward the piggy bank, hesitantly in some way, almost as if he was afraid to touch it. He finally took it in his fingers, turning it over and over, contemplating and scrutinizing what, for some reason, felt so much more than just an inanimate, ordinary object.

"What are you doing?"

"Molly…can I ask you a something?" he asked her absent-mindedly, his stare still focused on the toy.

"I…I guess so?"

"Is…is it yours? I mean…are those these toys…all yours?"

"What kind of question is that? As if you don't know" she replied sarcastically.

"Actually, I'm not sure I do" he squeezed his eyes to take a better look, then he grabbed Mr. Potato Head. "They sure look familiar though…" he paused for a moment. "Can you please just answer my question?"

"Hmph, you're weird. Fine, they are. They're my toys."

"Oh…"

"Well," she corrected "partly at least. There are your toys as well, like the ones you're holding. Truth is" she smiled, awkward "I like them so much I happen to…hum…borrow them every now and then, and sometimes you get mad because you can't find 'em or you wanna play with them too. Though we always end up playing together most of the time…you don't really remember any of this?"

He quirked his eyebrows. "No…I don't."  
It didn't make any sense: he couldn't remember having any toys at all, let alone playing with them, but then again he did recognize the ones sitting nearby his sister.  
How was that possible?

"So, you're saying these are mine" he reasoned.

"Yup."

"Then, I suppose you took them from my room?"

"Positive."

"But I didn't see any when I woke up. Were they already here by that time?"

"No, I took them over while you were playing with dad. No wonder you didn't see 'em: you use to leave your stuff -yeah, toys included- scattered all around your room. Mom asked you like a thousand times to find a place to put them in, like a toybox or something, but you're too messy to do that."

_Like a toybox or something._

_Like a toybox._

_He looked sideways, towards the ground, for no particular reason. He knotted his eyebrows, his eyes glued to that particular spot behind the window. To that __empty__ spot. As weird as it was, he knew, he just __knew__…something was definitely not right._

The toy box.

His eyes snapped open.  
His heart started pounding wildly in his ribcage.  
His fingers became butter-like as he could hear the distant, dull sound of both the toys falling from his hands.

_I'm here to stop you, One-Eyed Bart!_

_Let her go, evil Dr. Pork Chop!_

_You can't touch me, Sheriff! I brought my attack dog with a built-in force field!_

_I choose…Buzz Lightyear!_

_You saved the day again!  
_

_Mom, have you seen him? I left him in the van, he's gone!_

_I'm glad I decided not to take him to camp, his whole arm might have come off!_

_Why do you still have these toys?  
_

_So, you really think I should donate these?  
_

_You gotta promise to take good care of these guys. They mean a lot to me._

_He's been my pal for…as long as I can remember._

_The thing that makes him special, is he'll never give up on you...ever.  
_

_He'll be there for you, no matter what._

_**"WOODY!"**_

* * *

**POLL: shall Andy live or die?  
**_Vote on my profile!_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay. Okay. It's been insanely _long_ since I've updated, I'm way beyond sorry for this! Let's just say I've had my very, very good reasons this time.

Anyway...as I promised, Buzz is back! ^o^ Though there's a great absentee, for the first time...did you miss our beloved hatted head? Something tells me he won't be gone for long ^_-  
Freaking long chapter, I hope you survived reading it XD I enjoyed twisting Buzz's emotions in such way, and besides, now you got a clue on the real impact Woody's words had on him.

Plus, I'm happy I put some light-hearted and carefree moments in this chapter: I guess it was something that Departure needed sooner or later, given all the introspection and 'dark' emotions it's based on.

I quoted the chapter's last sentences exactly from the movies (though in some of those, a name is missing...), and if you notice, the end of this chapter should remind you of something you've already read...everything is linked on Departure, never forget that ^_-

**Keep In** **Mind****:** Chapter 8 is coming, hopefully, _soon_, and it's going to be one of the most important ones of the story. This means these are the last days you can vote on the **Poll** on my profile! (Yeah, draw your own conclusions.)

Do your daily good deed,  
and make an author happy today:**  
Don't forget to REVIEW!**

And now…

**REVIEWS CORNER!**

**Misshumanoidtyphoon: **Sorry I kept you waiting! How come the question mark at the end of your sentence? The man he met was actually his dad, 'Greg'. Did you like this part as well? Anyway, you're more than welcome! Thank you for keep following me *sniff*

**LNicol1990: **Your guess was right: as seen in the 3rd movie, Andy used to keep his toybox right under the window, and when he woke up it was no where in the room. Now he's found his toys back…well, all but two.

I'm glad you liked it, cause it has really been one of the parts I had to reason on the most on Departure: try to figure out what Woody would've done in such circumstances, trying not to get him out of character, has been _really _tough. Your comment has been the best payoff, thanks so much! =')

**MagicMelody:**I did? Oh my, thank you! I'm not a sentimental myself, so I'm happy (in a good way, of course XD) I managed to make you get emotional!

**Dreka:**I just read your comment, and I really liked it! :D Thanks so much! *I wish I could, but I can't spill a word about Andy till the next chapter .*

**ToyStoryForEver**: Did you cry for my story? *-* To know about Andy you'll have to wait till the next chapter! *Again, I'm sorry about that _*

**The Heroine With 1000 Faces**: Really? Really? :D I love when people tell me I did a good job with the characters, it is one of the toughest part thinking about how they would react in such contexts! Thanks soo much!

**Blackwolf-20: **I guess my best answer is the chapter itself. It is sad after all this time you're still wondering whether I will update or not, and I can't (I won't) spend any more time justifying myself for something I never did, considering I have always been willing to reply your questions. If you want to keep following this story it's fine, I'll be glad to know what you think about it, otherwise I hope you can find better authors worth your trust.

_Until next time, folks!_


	9. Chapter 8: Lost

_"You're still worried?"_

_"About Andy? Nah. It'll be fun while it lasts."_

"_I'm proud of you, cowboy."_

"_Besides, when it all ends, I'll have old Buzz Lightyear to keep me company…for infinity and beyond."_

**DEPARTURE**

**Chapter 8  
**_Lost  
_

He kept there: silent. Immobile.  
He hadn't the slightest idea how much time had elapsed, and honestly, he couldn't care less.  
His arms were still, indissolubly locked around the boy's jaw, his body so close to his face he could still feel the feeble but constant warmness it emanated.  
His heartbeat had been regular the whole time, he could hear it distinctly from the pulse in his throat. But he had never moved, nor shifted, nor even flinched since he had come. Not the last bit.  
He was alive, and at the same time, he wasn't.

He had not dared open his eyes once, not the slightest millimetre since he got there. That way, he could still ignore. He could still _pretend_.  
Pretend they weren't laying on the stiff mattress of an hospital bed. Pretend the broad patches circling his head never existed. Pretend he was simply sleeping, instead of dwelling between life and death.  
He shut his eyelids tighter, harder, forcing himself to indulge into that inviting reverie, and…and he saw him: he saw Andy hurrying into his room, excited to get ready for Pizza Planet. He saw Andy furrowing his brow, sniffling and scrunching up his adorable blunt nose as he looked down at his scratched knee, soon after getting on his first skateboard. He saw Andy climbing agilely up the yard's tree to get his old, tattered soccer ball back. He saw Andy scurrying briskly at home from side to side, proudly wearing his cowboy hat as he hold both him and Buzz securely in his hands.  
He reached an arm out, stretching it as far as he could: he was there, and he was so close. And he needed him _so much_…if he could just…come nearer…just…a bit...

Finally, his palm alighted on his face: his eyelids parted.

And gradually...

..._heartlessly_…

...his sight brought him back to reality.  
Because _that_ was Andy, now: an immobile, spiritless apathetic body.  
Nothing more.

An inaudible, choked moan raised and died in his throat. He took a small, brief breath in. Then, he let the air flow out of his plastic nose, slowly, raggedly. Once more, he inhaled, taking in little, uneven gusts of air that he subsequently let out, heavy and annihilating as the oppressive, suffocating burden he was harbouring inside.  
His throat trembled as a piercing, desperate sob reverberated within its boundaries, but he did nothing to stop it. There was no motive to hold back, at that point: he had no one to be strong for anymore.  
He grazed a hand over the young man's face, his fingertips running from his chin up to the line of his jaw, then over his cheekbone, his nose, his eyebrows, his lids, taking scrupulously in all those little, imperceptible lineaments he knew by heart, held steady since his childhood in spite of all the years that had passed by. No matter how old he could grow, it still was unmistakably him: his child. His Andy. His world.  
He was all he had.

Before meeting him he was just a poor, worthless old toy, abandoned carelessly by its beloved and cherished owner just a few months after his parents had bought it for him. He was _trash_: he had been for decades, laying numb in the cramped, worn-out cardboard box he was confined into, loosing his soul ineluctably, piece by piece, little by little. Letting himself go. And he had been almost to the point of vanishing completely when, many years later, the same kid who first got rid of him, now a man, donated him to his son: Andy.  
That day, he was brought back to life.  
With his constant, undying careness he gave him a new, unbelievable self-esteem, turning him from an useless piece of plastic into the strong, willful leader he had become. His pure, unconditioned love filled every single part of his existence, lulling him since then into a light, soft cloud of _happiness_. He had bestowed him with a second chance: the chance to be. How could he even attempt to describe the deep, earnest, genuine gratitude he nursed for him? No words could ever express how much he meant to him: he stood for the very oxygen a living creature needed to survive. He stood for the reassuring light of the sun, that came back every day to sweep the darkness away. He stood for your warm, safe bed during an ominous stormy night.  
He was _everything_.

And he was losing him.  
He didn't need a physician to know, to _see_ life abandoning his body slowly but surely each second passing by. He could _feel _it, the looming presence of something that was sadistically clawing his own soul, abducting his spirit and wearing out his body.  
And all he could do was being there, crooked like a defeated beast as he watched the most important person of his life leaving before his eyes, with the consciousness, the hateful inescapable _certainty_, he could do absolutely **_nothing_** to save the one he owed his life to: he was powerless. He was useless.  
He was _nothing_.

He spun around, now facing his chest. He let his padded back slide down Andy's mandible, spineless, until its lower part reached the mattress. Then, hugging his bent legs, he let his body drooping aside, leaning against his neck with his eyes closed once more: he couldn't bear the sight. Not any longer.

"Do you want to know the truth, Buzz?" he said to himself. "Do you really wanna know?" he whispered, lowering his chin to his knees. "I am lost. For the first time in my life, I have absolutely no idea what to do."  
And he was completely honest about this: more honest than he had been in a very long time. But what for, now?  
He was alone, and he had chosen to be: he let himself throw away everything they had, everything they were, because of his damn _stubbornness_. Because back then, he figured dealing with his problems by himself would have been for the best: he didn't want to burden the ones he had always taken care of and that relied on his fortitude, he had to be strong enough to make it on his own. Besides…-he sighed-…besides, wearing the mask of the hero was just easier than showing, than _admitting_ his weaknesses.

Buzz was aware of it: he had known all along.  
He had been able to read deep into his feelings, into such extents he had never reached himself: for this, only and solely for this he had tried countless times to talk to him, to be sympathetic, ready to partake of his sorrow if ever he'd feel such need. But the more he did so, the farther he pushed him away: deep inside he knew he was completely, accursedly _right_. And he wasn't ready, he wasn't _willing_ to face him, to bear the fierceness of those truths he had striven so hard to lock away for good into the meanders of his mind: recognizing them would have just made them…_real_.  
So, he escaped.

Alas, it served no purpose: his inner demons went right after him, malignant and unrelenting, wrecking and torturing his wretched existence every minute of every bloody day, shattering him to the point of morphing into a being he couldn't recognize as himself.  
On the other hand, though, someone who instead had always been there, walked away: it was the only person who strove to be by his side even despite his persistent, obtuse refusal, the one who kept coming back to him against all odds. It was his friend. His _best friend_.  
A loyal partner who had never surrendered nor ceased to be there for him...until the very end: an end he put his own signature on. And he was paying the highest price for it: Andy was dying.  
Because of _him_.

"I can't" he kept on. "I can't do this by myself. He's here…he's-" he bit on his lower lip, his minuscule, barbed teeth sinking into its vinyl skin: he couldn't pronounce that verb. He would never have. "And…_and I can't save him!_" he furiously yanked a sliver of the sheet beneath him, with all the rage his pulverized spirit could convey in his little hand.

He felt the earth crumbling underneath his legs, phagocytizing him into an endless abyss of pure, inconsolable desperation. There was no way out.  
"I" he sobbed. "…I need you, Buzz…"

* * *

He jumped down without so much of a second thought.  
He landed on the ground with a muffled thud, the earth trembling beneath his sneakers as his body curled under the force of gravity.  
The moment later, his right foot had already weighed a step forth on the grass: he sprang headfirst, snapping like a bolt. In a matter of mere seconds he was there, running, like there was no tomorrow. And unconsciously, he knew there wasn't.  
He stopped.

"Pant…pant…" he bent over, pinning his arms on his flexed knees, his lungs greedily sucking in precious oxygen as little beads of sweat glimmered on the sides of his forehead.  
His laboured breathing soon quieted down, casting the atmosphere into a reechoing silence that was not meant to last. He straightened back up, fixing his glance right in front of him.

"This…" he said, the crunching sound of footsteps approaching from behind. He didn't turn. "This…" he repeated, the sentence glued on his tongue. He exhaled deeply, in an effort to regain some self-control. "This isn't real, is it? The home…the tree house…" he paused. "…you. This has been just an extraordinary, beautiful..." he smiled "…dream."

"Yeah…" he answered himself: he didn't need him to. "I should've known right away. Everything here seems just so…unsettled. Out of place. Like…" he started, realigning the clues like a detective after a key lead, his eyes unmoving from the block he was standing before. "The house" he pointed toward it. "It's the one we've sold twelve years ago before my 6th birthday. And the roses: mom has stopped growing them since the move. Or, the tree house: you put it up for me before I was four, and it lasted no longer than five months."

He kept on, his expression surprisingly serene. "And Buster, he's been with us since I was a kid. It's impossible he's still a puppy. Then, there's Molly: it's been years since we played like that, I can't even remember the last time we did. Most of all, she would have never picked up any of my toys, let alone play with them. Heh, she always says she's much of a big girl for such things, and that I should grow out of them too."

"Also" he shifted his stare, and his irises focused intensely on the last window on the left, "the toybox: when I woke up it was nowhere near my bed, something positively improbable given that I used to have it there since the day you gave it to me. Furthermore, the toys themselves: I gave them away months ago, they're not..." he nibbled the inside of his lip, as if preventing himself from speaking further on. He sighed, low-spirited. "They're not mine anymore. Should I ever get them back, Woody and Buzz would be the first ones I'd recover, who as a matter of fact are nowhere to be found."

"And then" his tone dropped, his long bangs hiding his expression as he bowed his head. "Then there's you, dad. You left us when I was four and a half."

He balled his hands, hard, so hermetically his nails dug painfully into the flesh of his palms. He slumped his shoulders over under all the dismay, all the disillusion that run through his system, loosing miserably all the confidence he had summoned till that moment.

"How silly of me, isn't it? This whole time…I just…" he crashed his eyelids together, stubbornly impeding the way to the crystal clear teardrops he felt brimming over his lashes. "I really thought-" an hiccup forbade him to go any further on.  
It didn't matter, anyway: it wasn't real.  
_He wasn't real_.

He sensed a hand laying gently down on his shoulder, but he refused to look back: he didn't want his father to see him in such a state, screw it if he was just an illusory fantasy produced by his overworked mind.  
To his surprise, he found his spine arching back under the enhancing pressure his fingers exerted: he tried to oppose it, to wrestle against it, but all his efforts came out unsuccessful. At last, he had no other option but rotate under its coercing hold.

"_Aaaaaah!_"

He held still, his torso partly twisted on one side, unable to move as his brain obstinated not to form any thought whatsoever. Eventually, he partially opened an eye, which welcomed his recovered coordination with a series of throbbing, claw-like pangs. He nonetheless ventured hesitant fingertips over his now swollen cheek, at an absolute loss for words: he had _punched_ him, straight in the face.

"Just what _is_ wrong with you?" he snarled.

"Hmm…not sure I can answer this right off the top of my head. How come do you ask?" he answered seraphically.

"Are you kidding me? You've hurt me!"

"Hurt you, you say." He replied, his tone markedly pleased.

"Half my face is soaring, and I can barely open my left eye! How would you call that?"

"Then" he retorted calm but resolute, "you have to explain to me how that mind of yours made you think _any _of this was fake."

He froze right there and then as the sensibleness of his words slapped him with the same shocking vigor his fist smacked him a moment before: he was in pain. He was in _physical _pain. That could only mean his entire reasoning had been just…_wrong_. Then…

"How is it possible?" he voiced his thoughts, bringing a hand over his pulsing temple as he shifted his confused gaze on the lawn blades beneath him. "If this is not…_fake_…then, it means…this is…"

…real.

"But it can't be!" he retorted. "What about my memories then? They can't be just…just a flight of fancy! They can't be _dreams!_" he insisted, his cheeks blazing red-hot as a sense of looseness seeped through his baby blue irises. "I remember seeing mom's grief-stricken expression through the staircase when you got back home from the hospital! I remember spending _weeks_ sleepless at night praying for you to come back home from wherever you told me you were going! I remember the day of your funeral, dad, the day I've _buried_ you!"

_Y-you said...lymphoma?_

_Hey, don't give me that face! It's just a pompous name they gave to a little mass of cells in my body, it's not that big of a deal._

_Save this for the kids, Greg, but please...be honest with me. How bad is it?_

_Not today, Andy. Daddy's gotta go to the hospital to sit and get bored to death for a few hours, it's some adult stuff kids like you are thankfully spared from.  
I will play soccer with you next time, what do you say?_

_But you promised, mom! You said we were going to be all together by tonight! Why is daddy never with us anymore?_

_I'm sorry, Andy...I truly, deeply am. But it's not up to him how long it will take to get better and come back...nor to any of us..._

_I don't understand…you said he was going to be fine! Then why, mom? Why did he leave?_

_I don't know. I don't know, honey._

He shut his eyes in a desperate, futile attempt to refrain those sounds, those images to flood his senses, abducting him away into a universe of memories he had never, truly parted from that sweetly and violently rebounded in his core, easily making their way through every crevice his fragile innocent heart had been wounded by since his early youth.

"I remember" he said at last, resurfacing from the savage, never-ending conflict against himself with a newly-found conviction, combatting with every fiber of his being to hold on. "The day I fell off the new house's backyard ash, trying to jump on the roof. See?" he pointed at the bottom of his left elbow, revealing a thin scar that run up to part of his forearm. "I remember my life after you, the day of my graduation, and the one I left for Chicago!" He yelled furious. "I even remember that goddamned rainy night when…" he trailed off, realization washing over him gelid as a bucket of liquid nitrogen.

He approached his son once again, who looked up to him in turn, sublime wisdom merging in juvenile unconsciousness as their eyes met.

"Then" he raised his hand to his cheekbone, the same he had previously stricken. "you woke up here" he concluded for him, his voice soft as his caress.

"A-am...am I..." he searched his teal orbs for the sentence he feared to express, surrendering to their awing inscrutability.

"Why don't you try to answer yourself?"

_Because I don't want to know._

"..."

"Okay" he lowered his honey-shaded eyebrows. "What would _you_ like the answer to be?"

"What a question!" he snapped. "Of course I..." his voice faded, the words evanescing into an oblivion of intangible thoughts. _What_ did he want?

To get back to his family, yes. But wasn't it already there? Wasn't he happy, with everyone he cared about? And most importantly, why would he ever want to leave, if what he was experiencing was _real_?

"Dad" he swallowed his saliva down. "Where am I?" That question came out as a plead.

"You are where you've chosen to be, with the ones you wanted to be with."

Chosen to be? _Wanted_ to?

"But I've never had a say in this" he asserted. "After the accident, I just found myself here."

"Yet, you don't look surprised."

That, he couldn't deny.  
It wasn't such a nonsense, after all: he woke up in the home he spent his early childhood in, with everything and everyone he had ever, truly loved. As if all his innermost desires had...suddenly...come..._true_...  
A stinging, searing sensation bore right through his left peck. And from that moment on, a feeling he was not be capable to get rid of accompanied his every future action, murmuring silently something he before long wouldn't have been able to accept: whatever he was going through...

"I am dead, aren't I?"

_...was not meant to last._

* * *

**Author's Note: **The only comment I'm going to make as for now is you won't have to wait this much for the next chapter.

That being said,

make sure to leave a **_REVIEW _**(imaginary neon sign pointing toward the box below). Do I need to remember ya how very much I need them to carry on?

Aaaaaand nooooow...

**REVIEWS CORNER FTW!**

**Misshumanoidtyphoon **Hope you still haven't forgotten! :P So, what about Woody's thoughts on this chapter? Hope I left you hanging this time too!

**TbK **Thanks a lot ^_^

**jannix **My, thank you for your enthusiasm! It's nice how you've noticed Woody's and Buzz twisted relationship in all this, it means I'm doing a good job or so I hope! :)

**Jake Nickleby **It's lovely to meet a fellow writer! Yup, I know how laziness can overrule you at times, but it's pleasant you wrote me a review in spite of that. I'm stuck with the idea grammatical errors magically appear overnight so no matter how many frigging times I read what I'm about to post, there will still be :P Being OC...my, that's the very first thing I preoccupy about all the time. I loved how your comment was written, not only because of the proper use of the English language but for the so-much-needed pat on my back you just gave me! I really do hope to hear from you soon!

**Sakearose** First off, tell your friend I thank her a lot for promoting Departure, I appraciate it sincerely. I hope you did great on your exams, I've been there a few years ago and I know the pressure they put on you, I remember perfectly those all-nighters drinking tons of coffee (and I don't even like it!). When I read parts of it I do notice some errors, it bugs me and I'll make sure to correct them ASAP.  
I hope the both of you will keep following this story, I'd be happy to read more from you! :)

_~Until next time!_


	10. Chapter 9: Bring me to Life

_How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?  
Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb  
Without a soul my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold  
Until you find it there and lead it back home  
_

_I've been sleeping a thousand years_  
_Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul_  
_My spirit's resting somewhere cold_  
_Don't let me die here_  
_There must be something more_

_Wake me up_  
_Call my name and save me from the dark_  
_Bid my blood to run before I come undone_  
_Save me from the nothing I've become_

**DEPARTURE**

**Chapter 8  
**_Bring me To  
Life_

"I am dead, aren't I?"

He suspired thoroughly, a thick mist of melancholy making its way over his ocean-hued orbs. "…in a very short while, you will be."

"After the crush..." he rasped, making an effort to utter every single, cement-like word. "What happened, after the car crush?"

"You bashed your head on the concrete, harshly."

_He raised his head just in time to see an intense, yellowish light hitting him._

_His sight meshed up as he hovered and reeled in the air, and he felt a sharp, agonizing pain running through the back of his skull as he hit to the ground forcefully._

_The last thing he could recall was a warm and sticky feeling engulfing him, but he couldn't know it was due to the scarlet puddle of blood rapidly leaking out from his head._

"Do you remember any of this?"

_Vividly._

"Kind of."

"Then..." he sighed, averting for a moment his expectant look. Subsequently, he lifted his hand up to the lower part of his face, hiding his mouth: it lingered there for a few moments before it slid down to its jagged beard. "In a word, Andy, you're in a coma" he cut short going straight to the point, a trait he never failed to make use of during his life. "An irreversible stadium of it. Which means…"

"I'm not going to wake up."

"Correct. If you decide to stay here, you shall not."

_Decide. Stay. If._

"What…what do you mean?"

"As we speak, right now, every word we exchange is a word taken from the ears of your mother. Every instant you spend with me is an instant that pushes you further to the decision you're already taking. Do you understand?"

He cringed, tensing up his facial muscles. "Yes" he gloomed. "All too well. You know..." he scoffed, sarcastic. "At first, I thought this was reality: I couldn't remember a thing, but I was happy. The happiest I've ever been in...what probably is a lifetime. It actually took me a good while to realize it was too good, too darn _perfect_ to be true. So I began to guess maybe, somehow, I ended up in some sort of paradise...or a neverending daydream, that is. As for now, though...I'm more convinced this is pretty close to _hell_."

"How come do you say that?"

"Did…do you know how much you meant to me, dad? Did you ever see me through the window of my room, when you got back home from work?" He started nostalgic, his gaze defocusing as memories swung him away in time and space. "It was right above the walkway, and I spent hours perched on my desk peeking in it waiting for you. We…we used to play soccer every day late in the afternoon, and I couldn't wait for that moment. I know now, I should have told you before a thousand times...when I still could. Despite myself, I kept doing that every time I could when I was little, and every so often as I grew up…you know, staring through the window, waiting for you to come back to me. And now you're here, dad, you're in front of me and I can talk to you, and hug you and play with you whenever I feel like it. You found your way back. Then everything overturns anew: you face me with a choice between life and death, and whichever I'll set my mind on I will still be losing one parent, one way or another. As I said, this is no paradise, otherwise I wonder which _God _could be so sadistic to allow a boy either to be deprived from his father for the second time or to give his family eternal grief."

He listened carefully, scarcely hiding the surprise in his lips, torn apart from the intensity of his speech, words coming from a kid who was forced to become an adult unjustly too fast. As he approached him, he placed both his hands over his shoulders, his watery eyes glistening under the pastel sunrays: "Bad things happen, Andy. Terrible things that we've got no control over. You are overpowered, I was too. Your word was destroyed altogether, mine has been to. Life can be uncontrollably cruel and unmerciful, and no matter how much pain you go through, there's no guaranty it won't get worse. But it's called _life_ for a reason: as long as you're there you can still fight for yourself and for the ones you love, you can still go find your happiness wherever it is. And even when it seems difficult, even when it's impossibly overwhelming, you can't run away and hide out of fear simply because this world won't leave you any other option but react. As long as you _are_, you still have _options_ and that is what I want you to understand."

And that was when he, finally, came to comprehend: "You…you were never given options, were you?"

He shook his head. "No. I never had the privilege of a choice."

"I'm…I'm sorry I never understood it before. I always…I've always thought it was you…that you didn't want to…" The man's lineaments became less and less defined as his sight fogged once more. A thumb rubbing his ear functioned as a trigger to open his arms, lacing around the beloved one.

"I love you, dad..." That was all he could say. The only thing he had ever, truly wanted to say.

"I love you too, Andy" he bent over, bumping his forehead against his and resting it there.

He drew away far too soon, and they both shivered for the sudden lack of contact. They looked at one another, sculpturing their features into themselves, trying to carve every colour, every shape, every smell, every fraction of that beautiful, cherished creature they respectively stood before.

"Andy"

"No…"

"Andy."

"Not yet! I'm not _ready!_" He stepped toward him, seizing his wrist. "_Please…_" he begged.

"You can never possibly be ready for this, Andy. But your time has come."

"Will..." he opened his quivering lips several times before gathering the courage to mutter his very last question. Again, he found himself dreading the response. "Will I remember this?"

_Will I remember you?_

The answer came out as a simple monosyllable…

"No."

…with the power to destroy everything.

No.  
He wouldn't have remembered meeting his father once again, realizing what he had secretly, hopelessly yearned for in fourteen years.  
He wouldn't have remembered being there with his family, experiencing again what pure, true happiness felt like.  
He wouldn't have remembered any of the moments they spent together, any of the few but vitally important words they've exchanged.  
Everything would've just vanished into nothingness.  
_Like it never happened._

"You will see me again, Andy. This I can promise." He chuckled at his naïve, yet hopeful look: his heart was there in front of him, wounded and vulnerable, pleading for the weest piece of hope. And hope it was going to receive. "_Each moment you spend here is a moment less you will live_" he quoted "but it's only the natural order of things: as time goes by, little parts of your spirit ascend to this _dimension_, to call it that way, which is where it intimately longs to reside in. The same process goes for each and every pure creature existing, which includes your mom and sister, of course, your dog, the plants, the home and everything you've seen here. They're as real as we are because part of them already passed over. Remember, son, that as long as it exists everything has a soul. Do never forget that."

"Each and every…creature…" he repeated, pensive. "As long as it exists…it has a soul…"

As long as…it…

…exists…

_"I'LL MISS YOU ANDY!"_

_A cry._  
_A shrill, penetrating cry._  
_His foot pressed on the brake faster than he could even think to do so, his eyes wide open and his irises half their size._  
_He had heard that voice. He _knew _that voice. And he saw him: he saw Woody standing right there in the street, several yards away but still clearly visible._

_The truth was, he truly and dearly missed his _Woody_. Because he had constantly been by his side, no matter what. Because he was not an ordinary toy and, as weird as it was, he seemed to somehow look after him, being always there when needed.  
Because he almost worshipped him as an hero, his hero. Because he loved him, more than he could ever love any of his other toys. Because it was him, and no more explanations were needed._  
_  
He missed **him**._

"He was there..." he breathed out, breaking with a sentence years of never-spoken words. "That day...I was never mistaking. He has always been...there..."

"He never stopped loving me, even though I deserved it all for how poorly I treated him" he said, a regretful feeling washing all over him. "Don't do this to him, Andy…not you. He wouldn't bear another loss, not yours. If you die, Andy, he'll never get over it."

"Then…why?" He winced. "Why did he leave me alone?"

"Alone?"

"He was not in my room, when I woke up. He was not in the yard when we played before, and he was not even with the other toys. He is just...not here."

_He did...not want to be with me…_

Greg chortled as he heard so, then he reached out a finger to lift his chin up: "Silly boy. He loves you more than anything in the world, and if I remember correctly, _he'll never give up on you. He'll be there for you, no matter what._"

...

He will be...

...there...

...

"_My bed!" _He yelped heatedly. "He was resting beside me in my bed!"

* * *

Cold.

An unperceivable, immobilizing lack of heat at his side.

Stillness.

The regular, comforting pulsations of his heart fading away.

Noise.

An hollow, deafening sound. He whipped his head aside: a thin, sickly yellowish straight line obliterating the peeks of his vital signs.

_You saved the day again, Woody!_

_There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you...you've got a friend in me._

_I've been looking forward to cowboy camp all year, it's my one time with just me and Andy._

_I promise to always be by your side, whenever you need me._

_You should never tangle with the unstoppable duo of Woody and Buzz Lightyear!_

_You're right, Prospector: I can't stop Andy from growing up. But I wouldn't miss it for the world._

_None of them will ever love you the way I do. It's me and you, boy._

_I'm glad I decided not to take him to camp, his whole arm might have come off!_

_Woody...he's been my pal for as long as I can remember..._

_So don't forget, if the future should take you away...that you'll always be, part of me._

_And as the years go by, our friendship will never die..._

_Just promise…promise me you're never going to leave me, Woody!_

_"**NO!**"_  
_  
_He leapt in between his collarbones, stepping over the bandages that covered his injuries so he could look directly to his face: no air was coming out of his nostrils, either.

"_Andy!_"

* * *

_"Andy!"_

He jerked around.

"Andy."

"You know...I wish things could've gone differently" he merely said, a sad smile crossing his thin lips as he turned to his father for what they both knew was the last time. "But I'm happy I saw you again."

Even if he wouldn't have remembered. Even if just for a while.

He wrapped his strong arms around the kid's shape, and he closed his eyes to relish into that blissful contact as long as he could. "The next time we'll meet, it'll be forever."

_...I don't know how..._

_...but someway..._

_...part of me will always treasure..._

_...the time we spent together..._

_I promise, dad._

His eyelids, then, parted.

And he was...gone.

* * *

"No..._no_...no, Andy, NO! **NO!** Andy, Andy wake up! Andy!"

He took the sides of his face in his hands. He shook it.

_..._

"Andy" he repeated the motion. One time. Two times. Three times.

_"An-dy!"_ He spelled out.

_Slap._

_..._

"Y-you can't...I won't let you! Do you hear me? WAKE UP!"

_Tug._

He twitched his gauzes. His skin. His hair. His nose. His lids. Almost to the point of tearing up every tissue coming in his way. But he couldn't stop: not when everything was falling apart. Not when he most needed him.

_"Andy" he whispered, ever so feebly. He wasn't expecting any answer._  
_He had long ago comprehended that, whatever the reason, he wasn't going to wake up._

"ANDY!"

* * *

Woody.

He couldn't make out exactly what he was saying. But it was _him_.  
And this time, he wouldn't have walked away.  
He was calling out for him.

* * *

_Oh, Andy..._

_Mom, it's okay..._

_I know, it's just...I wish I could always be with you._

_You _will_ be, mom._

_Andy holding him. His gaze shifted on the photo_. _Him with the other toys._

_He took his decision._

_"**I'm sorry!**"_ He bawled, kneeling on his throat. "I'm sorry I let you go! I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, I'm sorry I couldn't protect you! I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you, Andy, I am _sorry_ for everything I did wrong! But please, Andy..._please_, I'm begging you! _Live!_"

* * *

An empty space.  
That was all that was left behind.  
An empty space.  
That was what laid in front of him.

No dad to come to. No home to return to.  
Nothing. Everywhere around him.  
_Nothing_.

"Woody!" He searched his voice greedily, like a castaway calling out for help on a deserted island. He _needed_ his guide.

. . .

"Woody!" He braved the void, diving into it. He stuck an arm out, trying to reach something, _anything_ with his hand, only to find out he had none. No arms, no legs, no face. He had no body. He had _nobody_.

"**WOODY!**" He screamed at the top of lungs he did not have anymore, viscerally _aching_ he could hear him from wherever he was. He wanted to _live._

* * *

_He kept still, laying lifeless as he watched his owner, his friend, his _Andy _leave before his eyes, with a plastic look plastered on his vinyl face that nonetheless held so many emotions. The car was slowly but surely drifting away from his sight, as the now young man was from his life._

_The moment he saw him climbing into his car, something had snapped into him: the fear it could've been the last time he saw him._

_._._._._._Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppp pppp_._._._._._

_If he had had a beating heart, he would have felt it collapse on itself._  
_If he had had veins, all the colour would have been drawn from his face._  
_If he had had the possibility to cry, he would have felt a warm and salty wetness devastating his cheeks._

Andy...

His heart had stopped beating.

…was…

His body had stopped living.

...**_dead_**.

His world had stopped existing.

He draw his head back in the most undetectable of the motions. His hands crystallized over his soft, icy cheeks. His genuflected body going motionless on his rigid, nonfunctional chest. His passionate, spirited chocolate irises losing their spark.  
Lifeless arms subsided like a dead weight at the sides of his padded denim legs as a spectral, plastic toy expression smeared on his face.

...

...

...

_Pant..._

**_"ANDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"_**

* * *

A door.  
And a sign on it he would've recognized anywhere.

**ANDYS ROOM  
KEEP OUT**

**except Molly**

It was now or never.

He...

...wanted...

...to...

...**_LIVE!_**

A shadow in front of him.  
He moved his sight aside, the giddiness steadily wearing out as it began to focus, a stinging odor of formaldehyde invading his nose.  
His pupils roamed their road back, trying to tell his surroundings apart. They stopped.  
He furrowed his eyebrows, eyeing uncertainly the bizarre figure that was covering most of his visual, an unintelligible look petrified on its little hatted head.

"...Andy..."

His eyes sprang wide open.

And now, right ahead of him there was..._him_.

"...Woody..." he croaked out of breath.

He was alive.

_"I don't CARE about your policy, I want to see my son!"_

He looked at him. Then at the door. Then at him again.

"WAIT!" He shot his bust toward his distancing outline, his suffering spine compelling him back. "Don't..." he moaned. "Don't go!"

He wasn't sure if his plea hadn't been loud enough to be heard, or if he had just refused to comply. All he could see was as soon as he had come back in his life, he disappeared.

Voices and footsteps rustled into the room soon after he found his way out. He closed his vinyl eyes, abandoning his fatigued back on the wall behind him: arching his shoulders he let a long, liberating breath out. Soon thereafter, gleaming, misty-like eyes searched the ceiling: he was alive, and that was all that mattered…

…for the time being.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Finally. F-I-N-A-L-L-Y! I'm _so _happy I can scream it out loud! ANDY IS ALIIIIIIIIIIVEEEEEEEE! Safe and sound, poor child!

Now I can tell you: it was _never_ my intention to kill him, not on Departure. To be honest he wasn't even supposed to be injured originally, if not maybe for his broken arm. Then this whole idea just 'wrote itself' as I kept going, and well, I think it worked.

Oh, about the **POLL** results**:  
"****Should Andy live or die?**"  
**-Live: **[16] votes  
**-Die: **[1] vote  
**-I wish for them both: **[1] vote

Y'all are good people folks. I didn't vote, of course...if I did I guess I'd probably chosen the 3d option. As I said I wanted him to live from the beginning, but it just thrills me wondering how this story would've changed if he didn't get such luck.

As you know, I love introspections, and it was a pleasure to write Woody's one on chapter 8: for the first time he's showed actual, deep care for Buzz, whom I've told much about even without making him physically present lately. If you miss him, don't worry: I've got a feeling he's gonna be back very soon.

I didn't want the 'paradise-limbo' part to get overly cliché or mushy, that is why I've focused on dialogues more than descriptions in this last entry. Talking about Greg, I'm quite satisfied with his characterization and the way he's made his way into this story. Also, I love the brief but intense relationship he's built with Andy, and even more the one he supposedly had with Woody, maybe because I've written so little about it although I have so much in my mind. You're definitely gonna see more of it on some other chapters of the fiction, and perhaps in some spin-offs or one shots.

My, I've been waiting a _long _time to write that little paragraph when Andy wakes up and faces Woody for the first time. If you think about it they never saw each other after the prologue! There is a reason it's so brief: I wanted it to be that way, and I've actually cut some parts to do the trick. Short and intense was the imperative, period.

That being said (and reminding you to **leave a R-E-V-I-E-W **as usual), we go right to the

**REVIEWS CORNER!**

**thespiritmaide **You've been so kind to review all of the chapters, I think it's only fair I answer on everything. About the bold writing it's something that usually 'bothers' me as well, as I find it a bit distracting too: that is why I only use it on the AN's or on very rare occasions. Oh, the boot scene...that brings up memories, it's one of my favourite Departure's moments! About the hat, I wanted a very specific reaction without being too drastic (that would've been OOC for Woody). On chapter 4 you pointed out the lack of the punctuation marks after the inverted commas, I do that when the narration requires it in order not to fragment the period excessively and to give an idea of speech continuity (i.e. "_That is what I am, Buzz" he said to himself. _Instead of _That is what I am, Buzz." He said to himself._)  
"And this is why you should never drink and drive, kids! Or you'll hit hot college guys who miss their childhood toys and make fangirls cry." I've gotta say, I LOLd at this! That's what I've always thought of him anyway: young, caring and frigging hot...he's the perfect guy!  
I messed on Woody and Buzz's friendship a lot, I know...I'm gonna deal with that pretty soon!

**Katieghost** You have no idea how reviews like that make me shiver with joy! I'm so happy I've been able to pull that kind of emotion out of you, it's thrilling and extremely encouraging! "Now I'm going to pour my soul in this review"...my! I can't thank you enough for this. As I read your review (written in a perfect English, I can only imagine what good of a writer you've gotta be) I really couldn't stop smiling, and you definitely made my day: every single word you wrote reflects with an outstanding precision what I want to achieve as a writer, the kind of emotions and reactions I'd love to draw forth from my readers. I'm not sure how you'll take it, but we're not quite near the closure yet. At least Andy's alive, and that's quite an achievement I'd say!  
I know it's not politically correct to say but...so far yours has been one of my favourite reviews of all time! Cx

**Lucia Delaluna **Haha, I hope I don't sound too desperate when I do, thanks so much for your kind words!

**seth7 **I know, I like changing POVs maybe a bit too often. You got eeeverything right, Andy woke up, Woody was there in front of him and he saw him! About Buzz, hmm...we shall see! Thanks for the review!

**Invader Kiwi **(I love your nickname lol!) Is this soon enough? Thanks for the review, I loved it how you said 'brilliant'!

_~Until next time!_


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